


Wounded Hearts

by enigmaticblue



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, Post-Series, Post: s05e22 Not Fade Away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-27 02:38:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1711898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the time between sleeping and waking, Buffy dreams of what might have been. Dawn attempts to make the dream a reality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Close Your Dreams

**“As we close this nocturnal door, my love,/come with me, through the shadowy places./Close your dreams, Love, enter my eyes with your skies,/spread out through my blood like a wide river./Good-bye to the cruel daylight, which dropped/into the gunnysack of the past, each day of it./Good-bye to every ray of watches or of oranges./O shadow, my intermittent friend, welcome!/In this ship, or water, or death, or new life,/we are united again, asleep, resurrected:/we are the night’s marriage in the blood./I don’t know who it is who lives or dies, who rests or wakes,/but it is your heart that distributes/all the graces of the daybreak, in my breast.” ~Pablo Neruda, “Sonnet LXXXII”**

 

“Mmm…tell me you don’t have to leave yet.”

 

“I’m all yours, luv.”

 

“For how long?”

 

“Forever, if you want me.”

 

“Of course.” Buffy snuggled up next to Spike, feeling his cool skin next to hers. “Forever is good.”

 

His hand cupped her ass, and she felt his arousal next to her thigh. “I think someone is ready to play.”

 

“I’m always ready to play—as long as it’s with you, pet.”

 

Buffy propped herself up on her elbow, looking down into Spike’s face, at his fair skin and bleached hair, his bright blue eyes that looked back at her with nothing but love. “I missed you.”

 

“Did you now?”

 

“So much.”

 

He didn’t respond with words, instead reaching up to run his fingers through her hair. She’d let it grow out long; Buffy knew how much he liked it that way. Their lips met in a kiss that was as sweet as it was bitter.

 

Too much time had been lost, too many opportunities.

 

“I love you.”

 

“I believe you,” he whispered against her lips.

 

Buffy’s eyes fluttered open, and her questing hand met empty space—again.

 

How many mornings in a row had she dreamt of Spike, reaching for him only to find that he was gone? Closing her eyes against the pain of his absence, Buffy rolled over and buried her face in her pillow.

 

People kept telling her that she needed to move on, but how was she supposed to do that when she saw him every time she closed her eyes?

 

There was only one cure for the grief and resulting ennui, she’d found—get up, get moving, start forgetting until the next dream reminded her of what she’d lost.

 

Buffy pulled the curtains, allowing the bright Roman sunlight to bathe her face before turning to strip the sheets from her bed. Simple, domestic tasks helped, maybe because she’d never shared them with Spike. They were hers and hers alone.

 

~~~~~

 

Dawn glanced at the clock as her sister emerged from her bedroom, seeing that it was just past noon, and Buffy was still in her favorite cotton pajamas. “Rough night?”

 

“I’m fine, Dawnie.” Her sister’s smile was forced, and there were dark circles under her eyes. “Really.”

 

“Do you want to go out tonight?” Dawn ventured. “We could get dessert. I’ve been dying for some of that chocolate cake at Steffi’s.”

 

Buffy poured herself a cup of coffee. “I’d like that.”

 

“We could invite Geoffrey. He’s been making googly eyes at you.”

 

“ _You_ can invite him,” Buffy countered. “I’m not interested in dating. Besides, I don’t think it’s me he’s interested in.”

 

Dawn scoffed at that, and quickly changed the subject. Her crush on the Watcher was not a subject she felt comfortable discussing, not when he appeared to only have eyes for her sister. “Spike would want you to move on, Buffy.”

 

“I’ve never done what Spike wanted.” Her sister gave her a tight-lipped smile. “I don’t see why I should start now.”

 

“You couldn’t have known that he was back.”

 

“No, I couldn’t, but I could have—” She stopped. “Forget it. I’m going to take a shower.” Buffy swept out of the room, leaving Dawn standing there, her heart in her stomach.

 

She knew what Buffy had meant, of course. It was nothing she hadn’t said in the alley in Los Angeles, and later when Faith had gotten her drunk. Dawn had been there for that, just to make sure that they didn’t get into trouble.

 

Someone had to be the designated driver, after all.

 

Looking back, Dawn didn’t think that Buffy would have allowed anyone but Faith to see her like that, maybe because Buffy didn’t care what Faith thought of her. _Faith_ didn’t look up to her the way everyone else seemed to; they were equals in a way no one was.

 

No one else but Spike. Looking back, Dawn could see that, too.

 

She knew her sister was torn between anger that Spike hadn’t informed her he was alive, and regret he hadn’t known how very much she would want to know. “He didn’t believe me,” a drunken Buffy had mourned.

 

“Hadn’t believed what?” an equally drunken Faith had asked. Dawn had gathered that Faith had her own grief to bear over the deaths of Angel and Wesley.

 

“When I told him I loved him. He thought I only said it because he was dying! I’m not that nice!”

 

Looking back, Dawn could see the humor in the situation—black humor, anyway. Two Slayers, completely wasted, grieving over a couple of dusted vampires. And Dawn had been sipping her soda and mourning right along with them.

 

Dawn couldn’t get over how unfair it all was. Granted, life wasn’t fair, but the fact that Spike had been alive, and Buffy had been unaware of that, meant that they hadn’t been able to take advantage of the second chance they’d been given.

 

And Dawn wanted her sister to have a chance at happiness; maybe that didn’t require Spike’s presence, but his absence certainly wasn’t helping.

 

Her eyes narrowed as the glimmer of an idea came to her. What if she could get Spike back? The Scoobies had resurrected Buffy, and that had been a bad idea, but Buffy was a Slayer, and she’d been in heaven. Who knew where Spike was?

 

But Dawn was going to find out.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy leaned against the white and black tiles, letting the hot water hit her back, wondering if she was going crazy. Maybe if he had stayed dead after closing the Hellmouth, or if she hadn’t known that he was back, she could have moved on.

 

But no. He’d been in L.A. for almost a year, and she’d been completely unaware and trying to date again—to regain some semblance of normalcy. She’d had a fling or two—the Immortal had been one of them—but it hadn’t felt right.

 

If she’d known that Spike was alive, she never would have attempted it. She would have gone to L.A. and dragged him back to Rome, or they could have gone somewhere else. Buffy would have convinced him that she’d meant what she said, and they could have tried again.

 

If Buffy had never been aware that he’d come back, she could have convinced herself that he’d known she loved him at the end.

 

There was just so much regret, so many things she would have done differently. Buffy wished she could have voiced her feelings just once.

 

She’d told Angel that Spike was in her heart; why couldn’t she have said those words to Spike before he was dying?

 

Buffy realized that the water was turning icy and turned off the shower.

 

“Buffy? I’m going to go out.”

 

Hearing Dawn’s voice, Buffy quickly wrapped a towel around herself and stuck her head out the bathroom door. “Do you still want to go to dinner tonight?”

 

Dawn shook her head. “I just got a call from Lucia. She’s having boy troubles, so I think gelato is in order.”

 

Buffy expertly hid her sense of relief. She really hadn’t wanted to go to dinner. “Be careful, Dawn. Call if you’re going to be out late, okay?”

 

“Sure thing.”

 

Although Buffy had no interest in going out, the apartment was immediately too quiet after her sister had left. Her thoughts felt too heavy, the inside of her own head too much to bear.

 

She moved restlessly from the sofa to the large window that overlooked the courtyard to the fridge in the sunny kitchen. “This is stupid,” she announced to the empty living room. For some reason, just saying the words out loud helped, and Buffy took a deep breath.

 

What she really wanted was sex—Buffy wanted hot, sweaty, exhausting sex—but since she wasn’t going to get that, she might as well kill something. Maybe if she were tired enough, she would sleep again—and dream.

 

~~~~~

 

Dawn knew from experience that Buffy wouldn’t be budged when she was moping; it was a lot easier to take matters into her own hands and possibly enlist some help.

 

Two years after moving off the Hellmouth, Dawn was discovering that the last thing she wanted was to leave that life behind, even if Buffy would prefer that she forget everything she ever knew about monsters and magic.

 

Although she enjoyed her university classes, Dawn hadn’t left her research into the supernatural behind. And she knew exactly who might help her.

 

Dawn smiled when she saw that the brass “4” on the scarred wooden door was hanging askew and knocked briskly. “Hi,” she greeted Lucia as she stepped inside.

 

“What’s going on?” Lucia closed the door behind her and followed Dawn to the couch. “You said that your sister was troubled.”

 

Dawn took a deep breath, unsure of how best to broach the subject. “I’m wondering what you know about inter-dimensional travel.”

 

Lucia frowned, shoving her dark, shaggy hair out of her eyes. “Not much. No one does.”

 

“Do you have any books on the subject?”

 

“What’s this about, Dawn?”

 

She tugged on her blue tank top. “I told you about Spike and Buffy, right?”

 

“Your sister’s long-lost love, of course.”

 

“I want to bring him back.”

 

Lucia didn’t appear to be all that surprised, and maybe she wasn’t. Dawn had met the other girl during her first class at university, and they had hit it off almost immediately, possibly because Lucia’s mother worked for the Rome branch of Wolfram & Hart.

 

That was something that Dawn hadn’t bothered telling anyone. It was too nice to have someone to talk to who would understand her freaky life and _didn’t_ think of her as Buffy’s kid sister.

 

That was why Lucia was the only person Dawn had told about her hopeless crush on the local Watcher, just as Dawn was the first person Lucia had told about her father—a priest who knew her as nothing more than a parishioner.

 

Lucia leaned back, letting out a breath. “You do reach for the moon, don’t you?”

 

“This is my sister’s happiness we’re talking about.” Dawn grinned. “Besides, it’s a challenge, isn’t it?”

 

“I can help,” Lucia finally said. “What you’re asking for is close to impossible. You have to know that.”

 

“But we can try.”

 

“I can point you in the right direction,” Lucia finally said. “And perhaps get you some of the ingredients that you need.”

 

“That’s all I want. I can’t ask anyone else.”

 

“You know there’s a chance that things could go terribly wrong, right?” Lucia asked. “You open a dimensional portal, trying to find one person, you might end up getting someone else altogether.”

 

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

 

Lucia’s lips pursed, her dark eyes regarding Dawn thoughtfully. “Are you certain this doesn’t have more to do with your own regret?”

 

“No.”

 

The other woman grinned, appreciating her honesty. “Fair enough. Shall we begin?”

 

~~~~~

 

Spike’s lips curled up into a smile as he peered through the Summers’ front window. Buffy was standing over Dawn, watching her do homework. He couldn’t quite hear their argument, but he could guess that it was about Dawn going out with a boy. It usually was.

 

If he waited long enough, Buffy would emerge from the house, and he would follow her out on patrol.

 

Leaning back against the tree, Spike lit up a cigarette and took a long drag. He typically got through two fags before the Slayer made an appearance.

 

“Hi, Spike.”

 

It looked like it was just going to be one tonight.

 

“Buffy.”

 

“Waiting for me again?”

 

“Thought you might want some company on patrol.”

 

“I guess so.”

 

“What were you and the Nibblet arguin’ about?”

 

“I thought I told you not to listen at doors.”

 

“You didn’t say anything about looking through windows.”

 

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Spike—” She stopped. “Come on.”

 

It was a victory, if only a small one. Spike knew he was wearing her down, and eventually he would get that crumb.

 

The creaking of the crypt door had Spike reaching for his crossbow and rolling out of bed automatically. He slept with his clothes on these days; he had too many enemies who knew where he could be found.

 

And if pressed, Spike knew he likely wouldn’t be able to offer an explanation as to why he hadn’t moved.

 

Footsteps echoed above him, and he pressed back against the walls, trying to melt into the shadows. “Spike?”

 

The sound of Dawn’s voice startled him; he hadn’t thought she’d come around again after the last time he’d seen her. Spike remained silent, however. Maybe he wasn’t evil, but that didn’t mean he was good either. It would be better for the both of them if he cut all ties.

 

After a long few minutes, he heard footsteps echo again, and the door creaked to a close. Spike slumped, filled with the same self-loathing that had haunted him since Buffy’s death.

 

He hadn’t been able to save her, he hadn’t been able to keep his promise, and he hadn’t been able to return to his old ways. He seemed to be trapped in some kind of limbo, and he had a feeling that only death—the permanent sort—would release him.


	2. From Grief to Grief

**“Love crosses its islands, from grief to grief,/it sets its roots, watered with tears,/and no one—no one—can escape the heart’s progress/as it runs, silent and carnivorous./ You and I searched for a wide valley, for another planet/where the salt wouldn’t touch your hair,/where sorrows couldn’t grow because of anything I did,/where bread could live and not grow old./A planet entwined with vistas and foliage,/a plain, a rock, hard and unoccupied:/we wanted to build a strong nest/with our own hands, without hurt or harm or speech,/but love was not like that: love was a lunatic city/with crowds of people blanching on their porches.” ~Pablo Neruda, “Sonnet LXXI”**

 

“Okay, here’s the problem as I see it,” Lucia began, shoving one of the stacks of books to the side. “We can’t both go back in time _and_ through to another dimension.”

 

“Right. One direction at a time.” Dawn had worked that out on her own, but she knew how Lucia worked by now. The other woman had a tendency to think out loud. “And since going back in time carries the risk of destroying this dimension, we have to find a different one where Spike is alive.”

 

“And that, _amico mio_ , is going to be the hard part.” Lucia sighed, rubbing her eyes. “You can’t skip through dimensions without some serious magic.”

 

“What sort of serious magic?” she asked.

 

“You need power more than anything else. If you have a friend who’s a powerful witch, she might be successful.” Lucia handed their collected notes to Dawn. “Otherwise, you may be out of luck.”

 

“I think I might be able to do this,” Dawn said quietly.

 

“Do you know something that I do not?” Lucia asked.

 

Dawn took a moment to collect her thoughts, wondering exactly how much to tell the other woman. She hadn’t yet told Lucia about her origins, at least not the part about being the Key, and she knew better than to do so now. No matter how much she trusted Lucia—and Dawn did trust her—that was the sort of information that did _not_ get released to the general public.

 

“Being on the Hellmouth all those years, I think it did something to me. I may have the power for this.”

 

Lucia didn’t appear convinced. “What else will you need?”

 

“Just the spell and the rest of the ingredients.”

 

“Do you want any help?”

 

“I’d rather not anybody else watch me screw up,” Dawn admitted. “If that’s okay.”

 

“But you’ll tell me how it goes?”

 

“Of course.” Dawn looked around the warm apartment. She knew that Lucia had refused better accommodations, insisting that she go through university with minimal help from her mother. The cracked paint and worn furniture were a testament to that.

 

But that didn’t mean that Lucia wouldn’t let something slip about the girl who could bring people across dimensions.

 

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” Lucia assured her, as though reading her mind. “I know who Mama works for. I would not betray a friend.”

 

Dawn knew that Lucia wanted something, but she didn’t want to come right out and ask, thinking that it might be an insult. “I know. Thanks.”

 

Now it was just a matter of performing the spell with the power running through her veins, because there was no way she could ask anyone for help. She had to do it on her own, or not at all.

 

~~~~~

 

After Dawn’s appearance at the crypt, Spike had made sure to stock up on Jack Daniels. He’d nicked a few bottles from the liquor store, bringing the demon to the fore when confronted by the store owner. He had lucked out that it was a store clerk who didn’t reach for a cross and a stake. So many of them did these days.

 

Unfortunately, he needed more alcohol to silence his regrets and prevent the dreams. Dreaming was wonderful; waking up, however, was not, and Spike wanted—needed—oblivion.

 

Spike stumbled out of his crypt, intent on getting a few more bottles to numb the pain, for all the good it would do him.

 

“It’s about time you showed your face, Spike.”

 

He stopped cold, recognizing the voice as Orva’s, one of the demons he’d previously helped out in his brief foray back to the dark side. He’d burned some bridges there, and it looked like they were planning on taking it out of his hide.

 

It wasn’t much of a surprise given that he’d killed two of Orva’s brothers to prevent them from killing Dawn.

 

“Orva. It’s been awhile.” He turned reluctantly to face the purple-skinned demon.

 

“You had to know I’d come after you, vampire.”

 

“I thought you might have skipped town. That witch had your number.”

 

“Not before I took care of some unfinished business,” the demon growled. As if waiting for that signal, five more Snarish demons emerged from the shadows. Orva bared his gray teeth in a vicious grin. “Let me introduce you to the rest of my brothers.”

 

Spike realized immediately that he was going to die. He was too drunk to take on six Snarish—although he wasn’t sure he’d have been able to fight six successfully while sober, either.

 

Snarish were tough, nasty buggers, and they had a tendency to hold a grudge, as Orva was now demonstrating.

 

But the only thing going through his head was that this wasn’t how he wanted to die.

 

They all piled on him at once, and Spike found himself buried under the bodies of the six demons, blows coming hard and heavy. He could feel ribs crack, and he fought to get free of the weight.

 

Catching sight of a gap in the bodies, Spike squirmed out, making a dash for his door.  He felt claws seize the back of his coat, and he slipped out of it, desperate to get to the relative safety of his crypt. If he could just get to the tunnels, he might be able to escape.

 

Spike stepped through the door and into an unfamiliar flat.

 

~~~~~

 

“Oh, God.” Dawn couldn’t believe that it had worked. She had been able to get her sister out of the apartment by convincing her to go shopping. Apparently, the word “clearance” still worked, at least when shoes were concerned.

 

The spell she had found with Lucia’s help hadn’t been a guaranteed success, even with her blood as the power source.

 

It had been a long shot, and she knew it, but now Spike lay sprawled on the floor, appearing rather worse for the wear. At least she’d remembered to close the blinds, so he didn’t have to worry about the sun.

 

“What the—” Spike rolled over with a grunt of pain, his eyes opening wide at the sight of Dawn. “Little Bit? What are you doing here?”

 

“You might want to ask what _you’re_ doing here.”

 

He frowned. “Nibblet?”

 

“Yeah, that’s me.” She leaned down to give him a hand up. “Are you okay?”

 

He stared at her outstretched hand. “I’m not dust.”

 

“Nope.”

 

“And you’re here.”

 

“I’m home,” Dawn pointed out, figuring that the trip through dimensions had addled his brain. “Technically, you’re here.”

 

Spike finally reached out, taking her hand tentatively, wincing as she helped him off the floor. He wavered as he rose, and she realized that he was drunk. She had seen him drunk once before, during the summer that Buffy had been dead.

 

“Come on, sit down.”

 

He leaned on her heavily as they moved towards the couch, looking dazed and uncertain. “Are you sure I’m not dead?” he asked.

 

“Actually, I’m pretty sure you are,” Dawn retorted. “But for you, that’s normal.”

 

Spike shook his head as though to clear it. “Of course, right. But you—” He stopped, rubbing his eyes.

 

The door swung open, and Buffy came in with a set of bags. “Dawn! I picked up a pair of shoes for you. I can…”

 

Buffy trailed off, staring at Spike.

 

Spike had risen from the couch, staring at Buffy with the same expression he’d had on his face when she’d first come down the stairs, after her resurrection.

 

Dawn cleared her throat. “Hey, Buffy.”

 

Her sister’s eyes blazed as she looked at Dawn. “Explain. Now.”

~~~~~

 

Buffy sat stiffly in her chair, staring at the wood grain on the floor. “So, let me get this straight, Dawn. You opened a portal to another dimension, not knowing what was going to come out?”

 

“Well, Spike was supposed to come out.”

 

“Try again, Dawn.”

 

“Buffy—”

 

“You could have killed us all.”

 

“I knew what I was doing,” Dawn insisted. “I researched the spell for weeks!”

 

“You used your own blood. How could you know that you would be able to close the portal?”

 

“I knew what I was doing!” Dawn’s voice was full of righteous indignation.

 

Buffy glanced at Spike, who was still looking dazed. “Go to your room, Dawn.”

 

Dawn opened her mouth to argue, then stopped, looking between Spike and Buffy with dawning realization. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll be in my room.”

 

Buffy took Dawn’s place on the couch next to Spike. “Are—are you okay?”

 

He looked the same, which shouldn’t be a surprise, considering that he was a vampire. But the missing duster, the burgeoning bruises on his face, the smear of blood along one sharp cheekbone, the dark roots in his hair—all spoke of the passage of time.

 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m all right.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“Hell if I know.” When he looked at her, his eyes were hungry, as though he was a starving man looking at his first meal in weeks. “There were Snarish demons, six of them. They wanted to kill me. I tried to get back into the crypt, and the next thing I knew, I was here.”

 

Spike swallowed hard. “Last thing I knew, you were dead.”

 

“Last thing I knew, _you_ were the one who was dead.”

 

“I don’t understand. What—”

 

Buffy held up her hand, realizing that this wasn’t getting them anywhere. “Okay. How did I die where you were?”

 

“You were fighting Glory. You took a header off the tower to save Dawn.”

 

Buffy blinked. “How long ago was that?”

 

His brow crinkled as he thought about it. “Dunno. Three years? Maybe more.”

 

“Didn’t Willow try to resurrect me?”

 

Spike gave her a strange look. “I heard something about that. Tara talked her out of it.”

 

Buffy looked away, trying to process the implications. This Spike didn’t have a soul, and they had never had a destructive relationship. They would be starting all over.

 

And maybe that was for the best.

 

She turned back to him, seeing the naked longing on his face, and she reached out to him without thinking. Gently, she tilted his face to get a better look at his injuries. He was as gaunt as he’d been immediately after she’d rescued him from the First, and she wondered how long it had been since he’d fed.

 

He was completely still under her hand, not even breathing, and Buffy understood. She was afraid that he was going to disappear, too.

 

“How—how did I die?”

 

Spike’s voice broke the silence that had risen up between them, and Buffy blinked, startled. “Huh?”

 

“You said—you said I was the one who was dead.”

 

“You died saving the world.”

 

She saw the hope flash through his eyes. “I kept Glory from hurting Dawn?”

 

Buffy realized that he’d gotten the wrong impression, but the hope she saw made her want to lie. How easy would it be, she wondered, to tell him yes? To claim that she’d never died, that he had been the one to give his life?

 

She knew that it was what he’d wanted.

 

But lying now would mean more lies down the road, and making certain that others knew the story she’d told him, and kept the truth from him. It wouldn’t be long before her story unraveled. Buffy had enough experience to know.

 

“No. No, I still died, but Willow and the others brought me back. It was later. You kept the Hellmouth from opening.” Buffy could say now what she hadn’t been able to. “You saved me.”

 

“But not until after I’d failed you.”

 

The bitterness in his voice took her aback, and Buffy wondered what it had been like for him, in a Sunnydale without a Slayer. She wanted to ask, but she was a little afraid of the answer.

 

“Do you need anything?” she asked, allowing her hand to drop. “I don’t have any blood here right now, but I can run and get some.”

 

Spike moved his shoulders in something approximating a shrug. “Don’t want to put you out.”

 

“You wouldn’t be.” She wiped her hands on her jeans nervously and straightened her black t-shirt. “I’ll just go, then, and you can get cleaned up if you want to.”

 

Staring down at his hands, he nodded jerkily. “Yeah, sure.”

 

Buffy saw the dirt under his nails, and she wondered again at what it had been like for him. Spike had always been very clean, cleaner than a lot of the vampires she’d run across.

 

“I’ll be right back.”

 

“All right.”

 

Impulsively, Buffy seized one of his hands in a tight grip, suddenly afraid that if she left, he would disappear.

 

As though understanding the gesture, Spike looked up to meet her eyes. “I’ll be here, Slayer.”

 

She offered him a tentative smile, and hurried out, figuring that the sooner she left, the sooner she’d be back.

 

~~~~~

 

The shock of landing in a strange place, with Buffy and Dawn having apparently missed him, had addled Spike’s brains. With the alcohol still in his system, he couldn’t be certain that this wasn’t some elaborate dream.

 

He definitely wasn’t dead; this place bore no resemblance to any hell he knew.

 

The shower helped to clear his head, and as he pulled on his grungy clothing, he spared a minute to regret leaving his coat behind. Although, perhaps he could ask Buffy if she knew where it might be in this dimension.

 

Spike pushed the realization that he’d failed in this lifetime to the back of his mind; he’d made up for it, apparently. Buffy and Dawn were alive, and he’d been dead. He must have done something right for the Slayer to be welcoming him into her home.

 

Dawn was waiting for him when he emerged from the bathroom. “I like the hair.”

 

He shoved his hands into his pockets self-consciously. “Couldn’t find anything to use.”

 

“Yeah, well, we don’t approve of helmet hair around here.”

 

Spike had no idea what to do with himself. The last time he’d seen Dawn—at least in his own dimension—he’d betrayed her. Granted, Spike had saved her life, but he wouldn’t have needed to if he hadn’t broken his promise first.

 

“Are you okay?” she asked.

 

“Why?”

 

“You’re pretty quiet.” Dawn gave him a tentative smile. “That’s a little unusual.”

 

He felt a hot rush of anger rise to choke him. “You were the one who brought me here. You tell me what you want me to say.”

 

“Was I still alive?”

 

“Yeah.” Spike was quick to put her fears to rest. “You were graduating high school and everything. Last I heard, you were living with Willow an’ Tara.”

 

“What about you?”

 

She sounded surprised that he hadn’t been a part of her life, and Spike had no idea what to tell her. “I wasn’t a good influence.”

 

She snorted. “Bullshit. That’s what they always said, but it wasn’t true.”

 

Dawn sounded so sure of herself, so sure of him. He thought about telling her how wrong she was, but realized that he had the opportunity to do now what he should have done then. So, instead he said, “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

 

“I guess you don’t have your soul, huh?”

 

“My soul?” He stared at her in horror. “I got cursed?”

 

Dawn winced. “No, you asked for it.”

 

“Why the hell would I do that?”

 

The front door swung open and Buffy entered, a little less enthusiastically this time. “I got your blood, Spike.” She stopped, staring at the two of them. “What’s going on?”

 

“I was just filling Spike in,” Dawn said, sounding a little nervous. “You know, I think I’m going to—”

 

“Do you have a friend you can stay with, Dawn?” Buffy asked coolly.

 

Spike could hear an audible gulp from Dawn. “Uh, sure. I’ll give Lucia a call.”

 

“Good idea.”

 

“Dawn said I had a soul, that I asked for it.” Spike tried to stay calm, tried to keep the panic out of his voice. Everything was moving too fast, and he didn’t understand any of it. “What the hell is this, Buffy? What the bloody hell am I doing here?”

 

He couldn’t prevent his voice from rising. After three years of pining after Buffy, of trying to return to what he’d been, he had discovered that he’d changed too much to go back. But by the time he’d made that realization, Spike had broken his promise, and had burned every bridge.

 

But standing here now, it was as though it had never happened.

 

“Buffy? I’m going to take off.”

 

Dawn sounded tentative, as though she expected Buffy to go off. Spike was beginning to understand why. This Buffy looked older, harder than he remembered. He hadn’t noticed it immediately, what with her touching him, and looking at him with wonder in her green eyes.

 

The Slayer nodded, crossing her arms over her chest—defensively, Spike thought, as though she would fly apart if she didn’t hold herself together. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Dawn.”

 

When the front door had closed behind the girl, Buffy began speaking. “I’m going to go over this once, because it’s not something I like thinking about, or talking about. What I’m going to tell you, I’m telling you because you’re the only other person who knows all of it.”

 

Spike sat down, sensing that she needed him to be quiet. “Okay.”

 

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Buffy began. “Not unless you want to.”

 

He eyed her cautiously. “Don’t know that you’d want to hear it, luv.”

 

“Maybe you’ll change your mind after you hear what I have to say.”

 

~~~~~

 

It had been harder to tell Spike the entire story than she’d thought it would. Halfway through, sometime after she’d explained why he’d gone to get his soul—as much as she knew, at least—and before she got into what the First Evil had to do with things, Buffy had had to stop for sustenance.

 

Spike hadn’t asked for anything to eat, and Buffy had to wonder whether he’d been eating regularly at all—or if he’d been drinking nothing but the alcohol she’d smelled on him right at first.

 

Judging by his expression, he was completely sober now.

 

Buffy glanced at the clock, realizing that it was well after midnight, and she was exhausted.

 

“You should get some sleep,” Spike said, as though reading her mind.

 

“Aren’t you tired?”

 

He shrugged. “Vampire, here. Think I’ll be fine.”

 

Buffy nodded, still reluctant to go to bed. She didn’t want to leave him, and she couldn’t ask him to do what she most desired.

 

“What is it?”

 

“How do you do that?”

 

“How do I do what?”

 

“Read my mind.” She attempted a shaky smile. “You always seem to know what I’m thinking, even now when…” Buffy trailed off, realizing that he didn’t know her. Spike couldn’t know her, not the way _her_ Spike had.

 

Spike touched her cheek with a callused finger. “You don’t have a poker face, luv.”

 

She laughed wearily, looking away, wondering how it was he could still want to touch her after everything she’d just told him. “I guess not.”

 

“Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it.”

 

Buffy had to fight back a sob, remembering how Spike had sung of being her willing slave, and how she had used that to her own advantage. “Oh, Spike.”

 

“Did you really miss me?”

 

She heard the wistful note in his voice, and Buffy knew that even if it hadn’t been completely true, she would have had the same response. “Every minute of every day.”

 

“Then ask me to do anything.” He sounded almost desperate. “I want to make it up to you.”

 

“Make what up to me?”

 

“I failed you, didn’t I?”

 

Buffy didn’t think he was just talking about what had happened on the tower, about not being able to prevent Glory from hurting Dawn. And she really didn’t want to know. Right now, she wanted to pretend that everything was fine, that she had the second chance that Dawn had so clearly wanted for her.

 

“It doesn’t matter now,” she finally managed. “But I was wondering if you’d stay with me tonight.”

 

Her tentative suggestion caused him to smile, the first real one Buffy had seen on his face in longer than she cared to admit. “I think that falls under ‘anything.’”

 

She could tell that Spike was trying to sound as though it didn’t matter to him, as though he was doing her a favor—which he was.

 

She couldn’t help but think that this might just work after all.


	3. Ancient Cinders

**“Whoever loved as we did? Let us hunt/for the ancient cinders of a heart that burned/and make our kisses fall one by one,/till that empty flower rises again./Let us love the love that consumed its fruit and went/down, its image and its power, into the earth:/you and I are the light that endures,/its irrevocable delicate thorn./Bring to that love, entombed by so much cold time,/by snow and spring, by oblivion and autumn,/the light of a new apple, light/of a freshness opened by a new wound,/like that ancient love that passes in silence/through an eternity of buried mouths.” ~Pablo Neruda, “Sonnet XCV”**

 

Spike was afraid to move. Sometime during the course of the night, Buffy had moved closer, until her head was resting on his shoulder, one arm across his middle, with one leg in between his own, golden tan bright against his black denim and pale skin.

 

It was a precarious position, to say the least, because he was having a very hard time believing that Buffy wasn’t going to stake him when she woke up.

 

And yet, the smell of her was intoxicating—the faint floral scent of her shampoo, the soft scent of lotion, and the distinct aroma of her arousal.

 

Spike felt strange being in this very feminine room, with the lacy curtains, the white eyelet spread, the light pink sheets. He was an interloper here, the contrasts between the two of them were too great.

 

“Spike.” She wriggled closer, pulling him from his thoughts, and Spike stiffened. He couldn’t figure out where his hands were supposed to go. “Don’t leave.”

 

He realized that she was still asleep, dreaming, and calling his name. “Not going anywhere,” he murmured. It was the only thing he _could_ say under the circumstances.

 

Buffy’s next words were unintelligible, mumbled into the fabric of his t-shirt, and he could feel the damp spot her drool had created. It shouldn’t have been attractive in the least, and yet it was.

 

Three years, he thought. Three years, two months, and eleven days. No, ten days. Today didn’t count, nor did the day before. He’d found her again.

 

Rather, Dawn had found _him_ , and just in the nick of time. Spike had no doubt that he’d be dust now if she hadn’t yanked him into this dimension.

 

And wasn’t that something? An entirely different dimension where he was the one who was dead, and Buffy had been resurrected.

 

Now that some of the shock had worn off, Spike wasn’t sure how to feel. He was in Buffy’s arms, but he’d done nothing to get there. At least his counterpart had kept his promise, had been there for Buffy after she’d returned from heaven, and had died to save the world.

 

 _He_ had failed her time and again. He didn’t belong here; she wasn’t in love with _him_.

 

With that bitter thought, Spike began to gently extricate himself from her embrace. It was unlikely that he would be able to go back to sleep now anyway.

 

Spike slipped out to the kitchen, padding across light brown tiles, knowing that Buffy had stocked up on blood for him. As his blood was heating in the microwave, he heard the door open and close, and Dawn soon joined him. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen that.”

 

“Seen what?”

 

“Blood heating up in the microwave. I used to do that for you.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“The summer Buffy was—gone.”

 

“We were close?”

 

“We weren’t where you were?”

 

“No, not really.” Spike pulled his mug out of the microwave.

 

Dawn swung herself up to sit on the counter. “How come?”

 

“Told you. I was a bad influence.”

 

Dawn snorted. “And I told you that I don’t buy it. You were like my babysitter.”

 

His anger rose. “And maybe I fucked up,” Spike shot back. “Maybe the Spike you knew was a sodding saint compared to me. I’m not who you think I am! I was—am evil!”

 

Dawn gave him a pitying look. “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that.”

 

He bit back a snarl, suddenly wishing that Dawn had left him where he’d been, whether he would have dusted or not.

 

“Spike?”

 

He turned to see Buffy staring at him, her eyes haunted. “Buffy.”

 

She fiddled with the bottom of her pale blue tank top. “When you weren’t there…” She trailed off. “Never mind.”

 

“I was hungry.”

 

Dawn cleared her throat, breaking into the silence that had cloaked them. “I’m going to take a shower,” she announced.

 

Spike realized that the Slayer had just heard what he’d said to Dawn. “Slayer, I—”

 

“What did you do, Spike?” she asked.

 

He didn’t want to tell her; it was too much of a risk. Instead, he focused on his mug. “No one died,” he finally said.

 

“That’s not the impression that you’re giving me,” she shot back.

 

Spike had no idea what she might have said then, but the phone rang, sparing him from having to give more details.

 

“Hi, Giles.” Buffy’s voice was cool, surprising him. Spike had thought that the Slayer and her Watcher were thick as thieves.

 

Spike could hear the Watcher’s response, and he sounded almost diffident. “How are you, Buffy?”

 

“I’m fine, Giles.” She turned her back to Spike, as though to preserve some semblance of privacy. “Really.”

 

Giles cleared his throat. “I’m glad to hear it. I just—I realize that we haven’t spoken for a while, and I understand that you’re still upset.”

 

“How am I supposed to trust you, Giles? You _knew_ that Spike was back, and you didn’t tell me. You _knew_ how I felt about him.”

 

Spike felt like he was intruding on a private conversation. She wasn’t talking about anyone he knew, even if she was using his name.

 

But he couldn’t tear himself away. When had he ever respected Buffy’s privacy anyway?

 

“I had good information that he was working with an evil law firm,” Giles said, sounding disgruntled. “Knowing how you felt about him, I thought it might be better if you didn’t know.”

 

“Well, I guess you’re going to be disappointed in me yet again, because now I’ve got Spike here, and he doesn’t have a soul. And for the record, I plan on keeping him around.” Buffy gave the end-button a vicious poke.

 

When she turned to face him again, Spike braced himself. It looked like she was about ready to give him what-for.

 

“Look.” Buffy stopped herself, taking a deep breath. “I didn’t ask Dawn to do this,” she began again. “But you’re here now, and I think we should make the best of it.”

 

“How?” There was a part of Spike that wanted to be what she needed, that wanted to be _her_ Spike. But he couldn’t. He wasn’t that man—that vampire. “I don’t think you understand.”

 

“Then explain it to me, Spike.” Her green eyes blazed, and she moved to stand nose to nose with him. Spike was now on familiar ground. He understood how to fight with Buffy, and even how to be her ally—to a certain extent. Spike didn’t know what to do with her friendship or her affection.

 

“The last time I saw you, I promised that I would take care of Dawn. I told you ‘til the end of the world.”

 

Her face softened slightly. “I remember.” The phone rang again, but this time Buffy ignored it. “Keep going.”

 

Spike found the noise a little more distracting, but it soon stopped, and he continued. “I tried. I bloody well tried all summer long, then Dawn started school, and they had dusted off that sodding robot.”

 

She nodded jerkily, and he took that as a sign to go on. “So, school’s started, and from what I understand that’s about the time when Glinda the good witch talked Red out of bringing you back, and your _friends_ decided they didn’t need me. I was a bad influence on the Bit, and all.”

 

Buffy took a step back, busying herself by looking through cupboards blindly. “Let me guess,” she said quietly. “You got the chip out.”

 

“I tried,” he admitted. “Couldn’t find anybody to do it, but I did find some demons who didn’t seem to mind so much.”

 

“Did you kill anybody?”

 

Buffy’s voice was even, showing little more than mild interest, and Spike felt his anger rising once again. “No, but that’s not the point, is it? I’m still evil, even if I can’t so much as punch anyone without my head exploding.”

 

Her laugh, when it came, was bitter—and a complete surprise. “Weren’t you listening yesterday, Spike? I know exactly what you’re capable of.”

 

He’d listened, but there was one crucial difference that Buffy seemed to be ignoring. “That was different. Your Spike went and got his soul. I didn’t, and I have no intention to.”

 

“I don’t know if you could get it anyway,” Buffy pointed out, finally turning back to face him after filling her coffee cup, the green ceramic showing through her fingers. “I mean, if there’s one soul per person, per dimension, yours is already taken.” She raised an eyebrow. “I guess we’ll both have to do without it.”

 

~~~~~

 

Dawn had been listening in as much as possible, and she didn’t like what she was hearing. She had been so sure that as soon Spike showed up, everything would be fine. He and Buffy would fall into each other’s arms, and life would be good.

 

Unfortunately, they were both being stupid.

 

She heard the phone ring for the second time, and when it became obvious that Buffy wasn’t going to answer it, Dawn picked up in her bedroom. “Yeah?”

 

“What did Buffy mean when she said Spike was back?”

 

Dawn winced at the sharpness in Giles’ voice. “Uh, that was my fault. I pulled him from another dimension.”

 

“You what?” Giles voice rose. “You could have ended the world, Dawn!”

 

“I was careful!” she protested. “Why doesn’t anybody believe me?”

 

“Think about that for a moment,” Giles responded drily. “She also said that Spike didn’t have his soul.”

 

Dawn hesitated. “He’s from a different dimension, one where Willow and the others didn’t resurrect Buffy, so he didn’t get his soul.”

 

“And he’s there with you now.”

 

“Technically, he’s with Buffy.”

 

“She’s in danger.”

 

“She’s the _Slayer_.” Dawn let out a breath. “This is why she’s not talking to you, Giles. Just let her be. She and Spike will work it out or they won’t, but it’s none of your business.”

 

“Isn’t it?” he demanded. “You don’t know what opening a dimensional door does, Dawn. It weakens all the walls, makes it easier for things to pass back and forth.”

 

She swallowed. “I just wanted her to be happy.”

 

“What did you use as the key ingredient?”

 

“My blood.”

 

From the strangled noise that Giles made, Dawn knew that wasn’t a good thing. “Giles—”

 

“I need to make some inquiries,” he said, interrupting her. “I’ll let you know if there’s anything that needs to be done. I trust you’ll tell your sister about this?”

 

Dawn knew that tone, and it meant that if she didn’t tell Buffy, _he_ would—and it would be that much worse. “Yes.”

 

“Very well. I’ll be in touch.”

 

She heard the dial tone in her ear and fell back on her bed, then rolled over to bury her nose in a bright blue polka dot. “Shit.”

 

~~~~~

 

In the darkness of a Roman night, Angelus lit a cigarette, deciding that he liked this new turn of events quite a bit. Although he had no idea how he’d arrived in Rome, or why, he had managed to ferret out the fact that there was no longer just one Slayer, or even two, but hundreds.

 

A slow smile tilted his lips as he thought of the hunts he could have. With so many Slayers, no one would mind if he turned a couple, maybe even started his own harem. Turning Dru had been fun because he’d corrupted a true innocent.

 

Turning Slayers would be even better.

 

Of course, there might be some truth to the idea that it was bad luck to turn one, mostly because she was just as likely to stake her Sire when she rose as anything else.

 

But he’d lived long enough to take a few risks.

 

He watched as a girl passed him, long legs looking even longer in her red stilettos and black mini-skirt. She made slow, mincing steps, on the lookout for something. Angelus thought he might be able to provide that something.

 

Schooling his expression into one of innocent confusion, he called out in Italian, “Excuse me! Could you help me? I think I’m lost.”

 

Alarm showed on her face briefly before she got a good look at him, and then she gave him a welcoming smile. “Of course. Where is it that you desire to go?”

 

Angelus smiled and dropped the pretense. He was too hungry for mind games; that would come later. Right now, he wanted the thrill of the hunt.

 

The girl screamed as his face shifted, and he laughed as she began running, kicking off her heels after three stumbling steps.

 

He gave her a head start, then began the chase.


	4. A Single Door

**“By night, Love, tie your heart to mine, and the two/together in their sleep will defeat the darkness/like a double drum in the forest, pounding/against the thick wall of wet leaves./Night travel: black flame of sleep/that snips the threads of the earth’s grapes,/punctual as a headlong train that would haul/shadows and cold rocks, endlessly./Because of this, Love, tie me to a purer motion,/to the constancy that beats in your chest/with the wings of a swan underwater,/so that our sleep might answer all the sky’s/starry questions with a single key,/with a single door the shadows had closed.” ~Pablo Neruda, “Sonnet LXXIX”**

 

Buffy never thought she would say that she was grateful to leave Spike behind, especially after missing him so much, but right now she wanted some distance.

 

And chocolate. She _really_ needed chocolate.

 

Taking a bite of the _pasticiotti_ , Buffy leaned back in her chair outside the café, soaking in the sun, letting the warmth of the cast iron chair soak into her back. It was strange to think that she might be going back to a life lived after dark. She _knew_ Spike, and she knew that he needed violence.

 

And he didn’t have a soul.

 

She took another bite and spared a moment to wonder how Spike and Dawn were getting along.  Buffy wasn’t sure they could renew their bond, given how much things had changed. Spike had essentially abandoned Dawn in his own dimension; Dawn had threatened to set Spike on fire, and their relationship had never really recovered.

 

It was probably good to leave them alone for a while; Dawn had been the one to bring him back, after all.

 

The crazy part was that Buffy still loved him. She’d loved him before he’d left to get his soul; it was why his betrayal had hurt so much, why she had been so surprised. Wasn’t it always a surprise when someone you loved hurt you?

 

Spike would disagree, of course. He would say that you always hurt the ones you loved, but then maybe he was just cynical, or trying to excuse her bad behavior. With Spike, it could go either way.

 

Buffy savored the last bite of her chocolate-filled pastry, knowing that her reprieve was over. She had to go home at some point and face him, to decide if it was worth it.

 

Not that there was any real question. She’d been missing Spike for well over a year now, and she wasn’t going to let a second chance pass her by, but they weren’t going to start where they’d left off. She had said “maybe when” and now it was when—and nothing that had happened in the last two years made any difference at all.

 

The phone rang and Buffy glanced at the number. When she saw that it was her land line, she picked up. “Yeah.”

 

“We’ve got a problem, Buffy.”

 

She sighed. “Of course we do. What’s going on, Dawn?”

 

“There were reports of vampire attacks last night. At least, it looks like vampire attacks.”

 

“How many?”

 

“Three or four. It’s hard to say at the moment.”

 

Buffy pushed back from the outdoor table. “I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

 

~~~~~

 

“So, what are we doing?”

 

“We are trying to find the vampire or vampires responsible for killing those people.”

 

“Those _girls_.”

 

“What is that supposed to mean?”

 

“It means we’re looking for a very discriminating sort of vampire.” Spike gave Buffy a sideways look. “Don’t think it’s your typical newly risen sort.”

 

She frowned. “That means we have a vampire who just got into town.” At his questioning look, Buffy added, “I might not be patrolling every night, but I keep my ear open for any news. The local Watcher keeps me up to date.”

 

In spite of their purpose, Spike was enjoying himself. Or perhaps he should say that it was because of their purpose. Back in Sunnydale, when Buffy had been alive, he’d enjoyed the violence that always followed her. Once he’d finally given in and admitted that he didn’t want her dead, he’d enjoyed helping her on the odd patrol.

 

So, it was almost like old times.

 

“I got the impression that you were retired,” Spike admitted.

 

“I took a break.” Buffy stared straight ahead. “It wasn’t the same without you. Without Spike. You know.”

 

“It’s a bit confusing.” A little _too_ confusing for Spike’s taste, but unless he wanted to walk away, he didn’t have a choice. And Spike wasn’t ready to walk.

 

Buffy stopped, turning to face him. “Okay, can we both just acknowledge that this is really hard, and that we don’t really know each other as well as we think we do?”

 

“I have no problem with that.”

 

“Okay.” He heard her take a deep breath. “Okay. Then are you okay with helping me out for a while? We can get to know each other a little better.”

 

Spike raised his eyebrows. “I still love you.”

 

He heard her gulp. “Oh.”

 

“You should know that, luv. If it hasn’t changed in the last three years, you have to know it’s not going to.”

 

“It’s nice.”

 

It sounded like a confession, and Spike prodded, “Nice?”

 

“That some things don’t change.” She smiled at him. “That’s what I meant.”

 

“Some things don’t,” Spike replied, looking around the city streets, the streetlights making everything sepia toned. “Rome hasn’t changed much.”

 

Buffy moved just a little closer to him. “When was the last time you were in Rome?”

 

“Fifty years ago or so, with…” Spike trailed off.

 

“With Dru?”

 

“Yeah, with Dru.”

 

“I guess a city like Rome doesn’t change much.”

 

“Outlying districts mostly, but the core stays the same.”

 

“And Spike would know.”

 

He froze. Spike recognized the voice immediately.

 

“Angel?” Buffy whirled. Spike took his time, reluctant as he was to confirm what he already knew. He would have preferred never to see the other vampire again. “You died.”

 

“That’s generally the _raison d’être_ of vampires.”

 

“Buffy…” Spike grabbed her arm, pulling her back. He had known the other vampire in all his incarnations, and something about the posture, the tone of voice—the leather pants—tipped him off. “That’s not Angel.”

 

“Gee, Spike, thanks for spoiling the surprise.” Angelus stepped out of the shadows.

 

The color drained from Buffy’s face, and she pressed closer to Spike. “How did you get here?”

 

“That’s an interesting question.” Angelus sauntered closer, moving to circle them. Spike kept his hand on Buffy’s arm, turning them both to face the other vampire. “One minute, I was torturing a dear old friend, and the next, I’m in Rome. Maybe you could explain.”

 

“Maybe you could go fuck yourself,” Spike suggested.

 

Angelus grinned. “You never could come up with a good response, Spike. Remember when I fucked Drusilla, and there was nothing you could do to stop it? That’s what it’s going to be like this time, too.”

 

Spike snarled, losing his temper with a hot rush of rage. Too much had happened recently for him to keep his cool. He flew at Angelus, going low, but the other vampire was ready for him. Angelus blocked his punch and then grabbed his shirt, ripping it and throwing him into a nearby wall.

 

Angelus hadn’t expected Buffy to move quite so quickly, however. The Slayer hit him across the back of his neck, stunning him for a moment, giving Spike time to scramble to his feet.

 

“I am so tired of you,” Buffy announced. “This time, I’m not going to be so nice. You can either come quietly, and we’ll stuff your soul back in, or you get dusty. Your choice.”

 

Spike saw the move coming, but Buffy didn’t, and Angelus grabbed her, tossing her into Spike and sending both of them tumbling, while he ran off.

 

“This is not good,” Buffy muttered, pushing herself up and offering Spike a helping hand.

 

He took it, trying to hide his surprise at her gesture. “No, it’s not. He’s going to mess with you.”

 

“You mean he’s going to mess with _us_ ,” she corrected, looking grim. “I’ll call Giles. This must be what he meant by more things coming through the dimensional walls. We’re going to need extra Slayers.”

 

Spike smirked at the thought. “You think Angelus knows about the fact that you’re not the only one?”

 

Buffy shook her head. “I don’t know, but I’m not going to take anything for granted.” She appeared to notice his torn shirt for the first time. “You’re going to need new clothes.”

 

Glancing down, Spike grimaced. “Yeah. That was my only shirt.”

 

“We can go shopping tomorrow.”

 

“Great,” Spike responded without enthusiasm.

 

~~~~~

 

Although having Angelus in town had thrown Buffy for a loop, it was somehow easier knowing that he wasn’t _Angel_ , not her Angel, anyway. Her first love had died in that alley in Los Angeles, and she had mourned him. This Angelus was a stranger.

 

Buffy could sense that Spike was having a harder time with it, however.

 

“I’m sorry, Buffy,” Dawn repeated for the hundredth time. “Really.”

 

She sighed. “We’ll work it out, Dawn. If nothing else, Willow can shove his soul back in.”

 

“Thought you said that wouldn’t work,” Spike muttered.

 

“I said I didn’t know if it would work for _you_ ,” she replied patiently. “Angel’s situation was different.”

 

“How?”

 

“You asked for the soul; he didn’t. Can we get back to the point?”

 

“What is the point?” Spike asked. “Other than the fact that we’re going to have to kill the bastard before he gets one of us.”

 

Buffy saw the discomfort on Dawn’s face, and she could sympathize. She’d felt guilty for Angelus’ crimes, too, when he’d lost his soul the first time. “Okay, let’s get something straight,” she said. “I’m not in love with Angel anymore, and I don’t have any problem staking Angelus’ sorry ass. But we don’t have to be anywhere near him to curse him again, whereas a fight might get one or more of us killed.”

 

She gave Spike a hard look. “But I’m open to suggestions if you have one.”

 

He shook his head. “No. You’ve got a point.”

 

“I’m glad you think so. Giles said that he was looking into options, but he’s definitely sending backup. He thought that we’d have company in a few days, so things are likely to get kind of crowded again.”

 

“Great,” Dawn muttered.

 

Buffy gave her sister a sweet smile. “I’m glad you’re excited about it, since they will be sharing your room.”

 

Dawn sighed, pushing herself up out of the overstuffed chair. “I’ve got homework to do.”

 

Buffy waited until they were alone before saying, “What’s wrong, Spike?”

 

“Angel’s the love of your life, right? Is this going to be too hard for you?”

 

Somehow, Buffy knew that’s where this was going. “Let’s get something straight. Angel was the guy I fell in love with when I was sixteen, and he died in that alley with you. Angel is dead.”

 

“And so is the Spike you knew.”

 

“Yeah, but the difference is that I was in love with you. I wasn’t in love with Angel. And you’re not trying to kill me, are you?”

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

 

“Good. Now that we have that straight, I think I’m going to get some sleep.” Neither of them had been to bed yet. After Angelus had run off, they had tried to find him, knowing how much havoc he could cause. They had been forced to go back to the apartment before sunrise, and had immediately called Giles to let him know that his fears had been realized.

 

Then there had been more phone calls, waiting to see if Willow could do a locator spell from wherever it was she was now living. Buffy had spoken to Giles multiple times, assuring him that she would be careful and wouldn’t take any chances.

 

Buffy had sensed that Giles had wanted to tell her to kick Spike out on the street, but that wasn’t going to happen any time soon.

 

She made it as far as her bedroom door before turning to look at Spike over her shoulder. “Are you coming?”

 

Spike raised an eyebrow. “I could if given the right incentive.”

 

Buffy couldn’t prevent the giggle that escaped. “That was bad, Spike.”

 

“You left yourself open for it.”

 

“I did.” Their eyes met, and he smiled, a sweet, shy smile that Buffy remembered seeing on rare occasions.

 

He scratched the back of his head. “You sure you don’t mind sharing?”

 

“The bed felt empty without you.”

 

Spike’s smile faded, and he seemed to be searching her face for any hint of joking. “You said we never really shared a bed.”

 

“Regret isn’t something I like sharing space with.”

 

He nodded. “Right then. It’s past time for me to be sleeping anyway.”

 

~~~~~

 

The first person Willow had thought of when Giles told her the news was Tara. She might have thought of Xander, but in the months since Anya’s death, he had grieved and moved on. She could still see regret in his eyes whenever the ex-demon’s name was mentioned, but Africa had been good for him.

 

Strangely enough, Xander had found himself on the other side of the world.

 

But Willow had thought of Tara when Giles told her that Spike and Angel had been brought into their dimension from another. If Dawn could bring over two vampires—or even just the one—surely one witch wouldn’t be too much trouble.

 

That’s what she wanted to believe, and if Angelus hadn’t reared his ugly head, she might have looked into it. For now, however, she had been tasked with helping Buffy round up Angelus—or killing him.

 

Willow climbed the stairs to Buffy’s apartment, moving along the narrow hallway past heavy wooden doors that were a warm golden brown. It was an inviting sort of building, and she could understand why Buffy and Dawn would make their home here in Rome.

 

Knocking briskly on the door, Willow set her suitcase down on the floor next to her. She could hear muffled voices from inside, and although she knew that Spike was there, it was still something of a shock to actually _see_ him when the door swung open.

 

Spike, for his part, appeared wary. “Red.”

 

“Spike!” Now over her shock, Willow gave him a quick hug, then quickly realized that she’d probably overstepped her bounds. “Sorry. It’s just a surprise to see you non-dusty.”

 

He looked almost embarrassed. “Yeah. Come on in. Buffy’s in the shower.”

 

“How have you been?”

 

“I’ve been worse.”

 

He didn’t seem inclined to talk, so Willow turned her attention to the apartment. It was big, much bigger than her new place in London. The colors were warm and earthy, and although the curtains on the windows were drawn against the sunlight, when open the apartment would be flooded with light.

 

“This is a nice place,” she offered, attempting to make small talk.

 

“Nicer than the one I left.”

 

“Giles said that Buffy was still dead where you were.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Was it bad?”

 

Spike turned to look at her, the color of his eyes intensified by the blue shirt he was wearing. “That would depend on who you asked.”

 

Any further questions were interrupted by Buffy’s entrance, her hair still damp from the shower. “Willow!”

 

They hugged tightly, and Willow pulled back to get a better look at her friend. “You look good.”

 

Buffy snorted. “Right. I’ve been up for the last three nights straight looking for Angel. I look like crap.”

 

Willow just laughed.

 

“Tell me you have good news, Will,” Buffy said. “I want this done as soon as possible.”

 

Willow grimaced. “Do you want the good news or the bad news?”

 

“The bad news.” Buffy crossed her arms over her chest, as though to protect herself.

 

“Giles hasn’t been able to find an Orb of Thessula yet.”

 

“What’s the good news?” Buffy asked, sounding rather apprehensive.

 

“I know exactly why Angelus came into this dimension, and I can tell you that nothing else is coming through with him.” Willow winced. “Assuming I haven’t just jinxed us.”

 

Judging from the expressions on Spike and Buffy’s faces, they thought that was small comfort, and Willow didn’t blame them. Angelus was a menace, and she had a feeling that things were going to get a lot worse before they got better.


	5. The Trembling of Time

**“It’s today: all of yesterday dropped away/among the fingers of the light and the sleeping eyes./Tomorrow will come on its green footsteps;/no one can stop the river of the dawn./No one can stop the river of your hands,/your eyes and their sleepiness, my dearest./You are the trembling of time, which passes between the vertical light and the darkening sky./The sky folds its wings over you,/lifting you, carrying you to my arms/with its punctual, mysterious courtesy./That’s why I sing to the day and to the moon,/to the sea, to time, to all the planets,/to your daily voice, to your nocturnal skin.” ~Pablo Neruda, “Sonnet XLIX”**

 

Spike tried to follow the conversation. Willow was trying to explain the effects of dimensional travel, and how when you pulled one person or thing through, you often pulled along the thing or person most closely related.

 

Unfortunately, as far as Spike was concerned, that happened to be Angel. Their counterparts had died together in this dimension, and they were from the same bloodline in both. It seemed that Spike couldn’t escape Angel no matter where, or when, he went.

 

When Buffy and Dawn started asking about the Slayers that were supposedly on their way, and other mutual friends, Spike drifted off, remembering the shopping trip from the previous day.

 

Not that he’d been able to go because of the sun, of course. Buffy hadn’t even asked what sizes he normally wore; apparently she already knew. When she’d returned after a few hours it had been with several new pairs of trousers—not all of them jeans, and not all of them black—and half a dozen shirts. There hadn’t been a black t-shirt in the mix.

 

He still remembered the expression on her face when he’d asked, more harshly than he’d intended, “Is this how the other Spike dressed?”

 

“No.” She’d said no more than that, but there was naked regret on her face, and Spike let it pass.

 

So, here he was, dressed in new clothes wholly unlike what he normally wore, trying to fill the shoes of another man.

 

“Spike?”

 

The way Buffy said his name indicated that it wasn’t the first time she had tried to get his attention. “Yeah? Sorry.”

 

“It’s okay. We’ve got a few hours before the Slayers get here if you want to get some sleep.”

 

“Are you?” he couldn’t help but ask.

 

“I’m going to catch up with Willow,” Buffy replied. “But I figured you might get bored.”

 

Spike wasn’t sure if that was a dismissal or if she was sincere in wanting to give him a chance to catch up on sleep. In the next moment, he’d decided that it didn’t matter. He was still a vampire; he was still evil. He did what he wanted, when he wanted, and if Buffy wanted to jaw with her friends, he could do his own thing.

 

“Think I’ll get a smoke.”

 

“Okay.” She smiled uncertainly, and Spike ducked out of the apartment, grabbing his jacket with the smokes and lighter in the pocket.

 

It wasn’t his duster, of course, which was irreplaceable, but it was serviceable. Spike felt the lack keenly, however, as just one more example of his loss of identity.

 

The sun was on the other side of the building in the late morning, so Spike found a shaded spot and leaned against the rough, tan stone. Pulling out his old lighter, Spike lit his fag in a practiced motion and took a deep drag.

 

At least the lighter he’d had since the ‘60’s—or had it been later than that—had come through with him. Spike had carried a small piece of himself, one he had no desire to lose.

 

For a moment, Spike eyed the sunny street wistfully, wondering how quickly he would immolate. It would be fast, he thought, only a matter of seconds. The pain would be over, and he would be—where?

 

Spike gave himself a quick, impatient mental shake. This wasn’t him. None of it was. Wallowing in self-doubt, next to sun-warmed brick when Buffy was upstairs, grateful for his presence, was the height of idiocy.

 

It was, in fact, something that Angel would do.

 

“Bugger it,” he snarled. Maybe he wasn’t the same man that Buffy had fallen in love with in this dimension, but that didn’t change anything. It just meant that he was faced with a Slayer who didn’t have the same hang-ups about the need for a soul and his bloody sainted grandsire.

 

Spike flicked his cigarette butt into the street, filled with a new determination. He had a second chance; it was time for him to take advantage of it.

 

~~~~~

 

“So?” Willow asked, as soon as the door had closed behind Spike.

 

“So, what?”

 

“Come on, Buffy,” Willow said. “Spike being back—it’s a dream come true, right?”

 

Buffy shook her head. “We don’t have the same history, Will.”

 

“But he’s still Spike.”

 

“He is.” Buffy managed a smile. “We’re making progress.” And they were, but Buffy didn’t particularly want to talk about it. Before Spike had gone up in flames in the Hellmouth, he had held her tightly, as though he never wanted to let go; now he held her gingerly, as though she was a bomb that might go off at any moment.

 

At least he no longer seemed shocked whenever she said or did something nice.

 

“Have you asked him about me and Tara?” Willow asked tentatively, staring at her hands. Buffy knew that expression, and she knew why Willow was asking.

 

“You guys are still together,” Dawn broke in. “And happy, as far as he can tell. Before you ask, there’s no way, Willow.”

 

“But if there’s a dimension where—”

 

“If there’s a dimension where you’re dead, and Tara’s alive, there’s a chance that Tara is happy.” Buffy tried to be gentle, but the last thing they needed was Dawn opening up more dimensional doors. “Besides, Angelus, remember?”

 

“So, you would have preferred that Dawn left Spike where he was?” Willow demanded.

 

Dawn cleared her throat. “Spike would have been killed if I hadn’t pulled him out when I did,” she pointed out. “And I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known that Angelus was going to show up, too.”

 

Buffy could tell that Willow was trying to calm herself, and she couldn’t blame the other woman. She knew all too well what it was like to be unable to move on from someone’s death. “Dawn had no business opening up dimensional portals.” She shot her sister a look. “Even with the best of intentions. Now we have to deal with the consequences, and that includes a homicidal vampire who wants to make me miserable.”

 

Buffy shot Willow and Dawn both a look. “I’m done with apocalypses, so let’s not invite one, okay?”

 

“No more apocalypses,” Dawn promised. “And no more pulling people across dimensions.”

 

Buffy saw Willow’s disappointment, but she didn’t remark on it. In Willow’s shoes, she would probably feel the same way. If Buffy thought there was even a chance to get Spike back…

 

“I’m sorry, Will.”

 

Willow shook her head. “I lost Tara a long time ago. I guess I thought…” She trailed off. “You know, I’m kind of jet lagged. If I could—”

 

“Take my bed,” Dawn suggested. “I won’t be using it, but Buffy and Spike will probably take a nap as soon as he comes back inside.”

 

“She’s right,” Buffy acknowledged.

 

Willow managed a smile. “Three days with no sleep, right?”

 

“Yeah.” Buffy watched as Willow disappeared into Dawn’s room. “Do you think she’ll try something?”

 

Dawn shrugged. “I don’t think so. Willow’s learned her lesson. Right?”

 

Buffy rubbed her forehead. “I hope so.” She thought for a moment. “How did you know which Spike to grab? There had to be more dimensions.”

 

“There are.” Dawn’s expression was clearly guilty. “I just—I pulled. There wasn’t any way to pinpoint a particular dimension with a particular Spike.”

 

“So, it was luck of the draw?”

 

“Luck of the draw for what?”

 

Buffy hadn’t heard Spike come in. “Luck that Dawn found you, instead of a Spike who was living happily ever after with a Buffy of his own.” She knew that her tone was bitter, but she was seeing the ramifications years down the line.

 

Buffy knew herself. If Spike disappeared through some dimensional portal, she would turn over heaven and earth to bring him back again.

 

She didn’t even want to think about the possibility of a Spike who was still very evil, and very intent on killing her having come through.

 

Spike looked as though he was about to say something, but he shut his mouth, shaking his head. “That’s the first time in a long time luck has worked in my favor.” He met Buffy’s eyes. “Think I’ll kip for a few hours.”

 

Buffy could see something different in Spike’s eyes. It reminded her of the change she had wrought when she had essentially told him to pull his head out of his ass and stop moping back in Sunnydale. She suspected that this had nothing to do with Spike putting on an act, or pulling on a mask, but rather stepping up to take the challenge.

 

And she suspected that it meant he would challenge her as well.

 

~~~~~

 

Dawn had been avoiding Lucia for the last few days, knowing that she would have to admit her success, and come up with some explanation for why she’d been successful. Lucia was well aware that Dawn wasn’t a powerful witch, and Dawn didn’t think she’d be satisfied with some half-assed explanation, like she’d just been lucky.

 

And she had been. Buffy’s point had been well taken.

 

So, when her cell phone rang and Lucia’s name came up on the caller I.D., Dawn nearly didn’t answer, but she realized that there wasn’t much of a choice. Unless she wanted to lose the one close friend she had in Rome, she was going to have to tell Lucia the truth.

 

“Hi.”

 

“Hello,” Lucia said. “I’ve been worried about you. When you didn’t call, I thought perhaps the spell had gone wrong.”

 

Dawn hesitated. “No, it went right. I got Spike back, but another vampire, a really bad one, came through as well. We’ve been trying to find him.”

 

“A vampire you know?”

 

“Have you ever heard of Angelus?”

 

Lucia was silent for a moment. “This is not good.”

 

“No, it’s really not.” Dawn waited for her friend to continue, and when she didn’t, she asked, “I should probably go. Unless you know how to get your hands on an Orb of Thessula, we’re probably going to be pretty busy.”

 

“I will see what I can do,” Lucia promised. “And I do not think I will ask how you made the portal work. There is no one I have lost I would want returned that way, not when the risk is so great.”

 

Although the other girl couldn’t see it, Dawn felt the heat rising to her cheeks, knowing that this was one of those things she should have thought about. “Thanks.”

 

“Be careful.”

 

Dawn hung up the phone and tried not to think about the fact that every person Angelus killed would be her responsibility, her fault. She could think of only one way to make it right.

 

She sat in the living room of their apartment, looking at her closed bedroom door, knowing that Willow was probably asleep by now. Dawn could hear movement from Buffy’s bedroom, although it wasn’t the sort of noise she’d been expecting ever since Spike’s arrival. Either her sister was being incredibly discreet, or she hadn’t jumped Spike’s bones yet, which seemed a little odd to Dawn.

 

There was no way that Buffy was going to allow her to participate in the hunt, but someone else might.

 

They hadn’t called the local Watcher yet; Geoffrey had been on a retreat when Dawn had performed the spell—and with good reason. Although Geoff might have been making googly eyes at her sister, Dawn had a rather large crush on him, and the last thing she’d wanted was a lecture from a guy she liked about how stupid she’d been.

 

Now, it appeared as though she’d have to brave it, because she thought that Geoffrey might help her out.

 

After all, Buffy had taught her to clean up her own messes; Dawn was going to do exactly that.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike stood at the bedroom window, enjoying the view. “How long did you say we had before the Slayers arrived?”

 

“A couple of hours.” There was a pause, and he knew that she was looking at the clock on the bedside table. “They’re supposed to be here around six, before sundown.”

 

He turned to face her. Buffy was sitting on the bed, hands clasped between her knees, her expression uncertain. She looked as though she was waiting for something—waiting for him. “Do you think we’ll find him tonight?” he asked, attempting to keep his voice even.

 

“I don’t know. Angelus is pretty good at not being found, and it’s a big city.”

 

They had followed all rumors of him, in what seemed like a hunt from one side of the city to the other, but Buffy was right. Rome was a big place, and there was always vampire activity. Unless or until Angelus decided to attack them, their only option was to keep hunting.

 

“We could set up a trap,” he suggested.

 

“With who or what as the bait?” Buffy countered. “We’ve been over this.”

 

They had, and the result was always the same: neither of them was willing to risk the other, or anyone else. And Buffy, Spike knew, wasn’t quite ready to kill the other vampire, not when there was a chance at re-ensouling him.

 

“You still want to try the curse,” Spike said.

 

“I promised Faith that we would.”

 

Spike had never actually met Faith, but he’d been around when the other Slayer had come out of her coma and switched bodies with Buffy. He’d mentioned that to Buffy, but she had just smiled and shook her head. “We’ve been through a lot since then,” was all she’d say.

 

Spike thought it was probably a lot like so many things that he had experienced after Buffy’s death—like the Scoobies asking him to watch Dawn night after night until they’d decided he was a bad influence.

 

It had been a self-fulfilling prophecy, he realized now. Without regular contact with Dawn, the reason for his promise to Buffy, the promise itself had seemed meaningless, and he’d attempted to go back to what he had been before.

 

He’d learned the hard way that he couldn’t.

 

“Spike?”

 

That one word broke him out of his reverie, and he stared at her, at the hope in her eyes, and he dared to do something he hadn’t even had the strength to dream of doing—not for years now.

 

His lips met hers in a tentative kiss, and her hands came up to frame his face and pull him closer. Buffy fell backwards onto the bed, bringing him with her, the intensity ratcheting up several notches.

 

Spike covered her body with his, resting his weight on his elbows, trying not to push too hard, to give her a chance to change her mind, but she pulled him closer. He wasn’t sure that he would ever get enough of her, her taste filling a part of him that had been hollow since her death.

 

He was a little surprised when she flipped them over, straddling his waist, her hands fumbling with the hem of his t-shirt. “Buffy…”

 

“I want to taste you,” she mumbled against his lips, nibbling her way down his neck.

 

Spike feared that he would lose all control when her lips moved to his chest, teeth and tongue teasing the sensitive skin around a nipple. He suddenly realized that Buffy knew his body; this was old territory for her, and her knowledge and his longing threatened to undo him.

 

“God, Buffy—”

 

She sat up, her eyes meeting his, and Spike could see the satisfied gleam in her eye, the pleasure she took in her power over him. No matter what she’d told him, Spike knew that it was still true—he would still take whatever crumbs she deigned to throw him.

 

“I love you.”

 

Spike began to shake his head. “You don’t know me,” he protested.

 

“I know you better than you might think.” Her smile grew tender. “You’re mine.”

 

There was a hint of a question, and Spike was powerless to do anything other than agree. “Always.”

 

“I’ll make it worth your while,” she promised.

 

He didn’t have the strength to tell her that there was no need for that because she already had.


	6. The Only Light I Know

**“I love the handful of the earth you are./Because of its meadows, vase as a planet,/I have no other star. You are my replica/of the multiplying universe./Your wide eyes are the only light I know/from extinguished constellations;/your skin throbs like the streak/of a meteor through rain./Your hips were that much of the moon for me;/your deep mouth and its delights, that much sun;/your heart, fiery with its long red rays,/was that much ardent light, like honey in the shade./So I pass across your burning form, kissing/you—compact and planetary, my dove, my globe.” ~Pablo Neruda, “Sonnet VI”**

 

Dawn took a deep breath, knowing that she was about ready to get reamed. She knocked, and the nervous smile on her face died when she saw Geoffrey. He looked really worried. “I thought you just got back from a retreat,” she blurted out. “Aren’t you supposed to be relaxed?”  


“I did, and I was,” he responded, his proper British accent clipped. “But I’m missing two Slayers. They didn’t check in last night, and I’ve been trying to reach their parents and classmates.” He gave her a sharp look. “What are you doing here? Is something wrong with Buffy?”

 

Dawn spared a moment to wonder why it was always about Buffy. She was definitely going to make sure that the next guy she had a crush on never met her sister. “No. Buffy’s fine. It’s—” Her heart sank as she put two and two together. “Have you called Giles yet?”

 

“Of course not,” Geoffrey responded irritably. “Mr. Giles wasn’t certain I could handle two Slayers. I’m hardly going to admit that everything went wrong the first time I left for a retreat. I was planning on calling your sister next. Has either contacted you?”

 

Dawn shook her head. She and Buffy saw Geoffrey and the two Slayers under his care on occasion, but they didn’t stay in close contact. Because both girls still lived at home with their parents in the area, there was no reason for them to get in touch with Buffy unless there was an emergency. Buffy had called them and told them not to bother hunting until they had either captured or killed Angelus.

 

How Angelus would have managed to find two Slayers in a city the size of Rome was anyone’s guess, particularly if they weren’t out looking for him.

 

“I think I might have some idea of what happened.”

 

Geoffrey truly focused on her for the first time, and she noted that his shirt matched the green of his eyes. It really wasn’t fair that he was so hot. “What’s going on, Dawn?”

 

“Can I sit down?” He waved her to one of his mismatched, beat-up leather chairs, and Dawn sank down into the brown one, leaving the mustard yellow one for Geoffrey. “I opened a portal.”

 

He’d been told about her background as the Key, so there was no concern about giving him too much information, the way there had been with Lucia. “Why?”

 

At least he assumed she had a reason. “I wanted to find Spike.”

 

“From another dimension, I assume?”

 

“Yeah. And I did find him, and he came through no problem. The only problem is that Angelus came through, too.”

 

Geoffrey looked puzzled for a moment until the light dawned. “Angelus? Are you stupid?”

 

“I didn’t mean to!” Dawn protested. “You’ve _seen_ Buffy over the last few months since she found out that Spike had been alive. I just wanted her to be happy.”

 

The Watcher took a deep, audible breath, and Dawn could tell that he was trying to calm himself. “You had no idea what you were going to bring out.”

 

“I did the research, Geoff.” Dawn wanted him to understand “It was a fluke that anything else came through, and yes, it was my fault. That’s why I want to fix it.”

 

Geoffrey fixed her with a hard stare that Dawn met fearlessly. Maybe she’d screwed up, but she faced her mistakes head-on, and she helped to clean up the mess.

 

And that was more than some people she knew.

 

“Fair enough,” he finally said, running a hand through his light brown hair. “What was it that you had in mind?”

 

~~~~~

 

Willow had been woken from her nap by a large thump from the direction of Buffy’s bedroom. It wasn’t hard to figure out what Buffy and Spike had been doing, not when Buffy watched him with longing anytime he wasn’t looking, and he did the same.

 

Still, she would have preferred not to have overheard their sexcapades.

 

A glance at the clock told her that Vi and Faith would be arriving shortly anyway, so she rose, straightening the brightly polka-dotted comforter on Dawn’s bed and fluffing up the pillows. It looked like things were going to get crowded in the apartment—just like old times.

 

She emerged from the room just as the knocking on the front door started. Dawn was nowhere to be seen, and Spike and Buffy were probably not ready to receive visitors, so Willow answered it. “Hey, guys.” She hugged Vi, and waved them both inside.

 

Willow hadn’t seen Vi since she’d moved to South America; even when she’d returned to London after her breakup with Kennedy, Vi had been elsewhere, dealing with various emergencies. Faith, however, regularly stopped through London, and Willow had seen her just a couple weeks before when she’d shown up to get her next assignment.

 

She glanced at Faith. “We don’t hug, do we?”

 

Faith shrugged. “Not really much of a hugger.” She looked around the apartment, dropping her black duffel bag unceremoniously on the floor. “Nice place.”

 

“That’s what I said,” Willow replied. “How was the flight? Did everything go okay?”

 

“We didn’t have any trouble,” Vi said. She had already put her own bag by the couch. “So yeah.” She lowered her voice. “How is Buffy?”

 

Willow could hear the unspoken questions—how was Spike? How was Buffy dealing with his return? Was a soulless Spike going to be a problem?”

 

“She’s okay. I think she’s dealing with the situation, and Spike is adjusting.”

 

“Is it true? Did he really come from a dimension where Buffy was dead?” Faith asked.

 

Willow nodded. “Buffy was never resurrected in his dimension. From what he said, he was about an inch away from being dust when Dawn opened the portal.”

 

“And Angelus?” Faith gave her a sharp look. “We’re going to try and put his soul back, right?”

 

Willow sighed. “I don’t know if we can, Faith. So far, there’s been no luck locating an Orb, and without one, we can’t do the spell.”

 

“Shit.” Faith paced over to the large, sunny window. “How the hell am I supposed to kill him?” she demanded.

 

“He’s not really Angel.” Willow knew that her assurance was probably not going to be enough. Faith and Angel had had a special bond, and killing the vampire in any incarnation was going to be hard.

 

Faith shook her head. “That’s not going to be good enough, Willow. If we had a little more time—”

 

“We don’t have time.” Buffy exited her bedroom, closing the door behind her. “I know this is hard, Faith, but this is Angelus.”

 

“I know how he is,” Faith shot back. “Remember? I had to deal with him in L.A.”

 

“And I had to face him in Sunnydale.” Buffy took a deep breath. “We’re still looking for an Orb, and we’re going to keep looking, but we can’t hold back forever. If we find him, and we can’t capture him or do the spell, there’s not going to be a choice.”

 

Faith pushed her thick, dark hair away from her face impatiently. “Fine. But first we try to bring him in alive.”

 

“Absolutely.” Buffy turned as soon as she heard her bedroom door open. “Hey.”

 

Spike’s lips quirked. “Want to introduce me to your friends, luv?”

 

Willow raised an eyebrow at the endearment. She didn’t think she’d heard Spike address her so intimately since she’d arrived, and the way Buffy flushed with pleasure indicated that she didn’t mind.

 

“Faith, Vi, you know Spike. Or _a_ Spike, I guess. Spike, this is Vi and Faith,” she said, indicating each woman in turn.

 

Vi offered a friendly smile. “Nice to meet you.”

 

Faith raised a hand. “Hey.” She looked at Buffy. “I’m starving. Any chance we could eat before heading out?”

 

“Sure,” Buffy replied. “I think we’ve got something around here. Vi?”

 

“I could eat,” she said cheerfully.

 

“I’ll see what I can find.”

 

As Buffy rummaged in the fridge, something occurred to Willow. “Buffy, where’s Dawn?”

 

Buffy straightened. “That’s a really good question.”

 

~~~~~

 

Spike hadn’t been sure how Buffy would respond to him after they’d had sex—or as near to it as you could get. If someone had told him a week before that he’d be seeing the Slayer again, and that she would be giving him one of the best blow jobs in his life—

 

Well, he’d have called the men with nets, no question.

 

Buffy had finished him off and then encouraged him to go to sleep, resting her head trustingly on his shoulder. Sated as he was, covered in her scent and warmth, it had been easy to fall asleep.

 

He’d half-expected her to pretend that nothing had happened, but she had woken him with a kiss and suggested he shower before joining them in the living room.

 

It felt right, being with her, like a dream come true. Although Angelus had never made it into his dreams, for a very good reason.

 

Now he stood in the kitchen, sipping his mug of blood, listening as Buffy made phone call after phone call, trying to reach her sister. Dawn had apparently turned off her cell phone, including the GPS tracking.

 

“Okay, thanks, Giles. I appreciate it.” Buffy hung up. “He hasn’t heard from Dawn.”

 

“Would there be anyone else she would contact?” Willow asked. “Anyone in town?”

 

“I called Lucia first,” Buffy replied. “She said that she talked to Dawn earlier today, but that was it.” She frowned. “Hang on.”

 

Spike kept silent as she dialed another number. He could tell by the expression on her face that it rang through to voicemail. “Geoffrey, call me when you get this,” she said briefly. “The local Watcher isn’t responding,” she announced as soon as she had hung up. “I don’t like this. Dawn should have been back by now.”

 

The other girls glanced at the window; the sun had nearly set, and it was the best time to go hunting, just before vampires began emerging, in time to prevent them from catching breakfast.

 

Spike cleared his throat nervously, knowing that he might be speaking out of turn. “Buffy? Would Dawn go off on her own?”

 

“To do what?”

 

“She was the one who was responsible for Angelus showing up,” he pointed out. “I don’t know Dawn all that well, not here, but…”

 

“You’re right. Dammit!” Buffy cursed, then twisted her hair into a ponytail. “Okay, here’s the deal. Willow, how long is it going to take you to do a locator spell?”

 

“Probably half an hour, assuming that you have a map of Rome.” Willow frowned. “What were you thinking, Buffy?”

 

“Spike, stay with Willow and find out where Dawn is. I want her back here, and then I want you both out looking for Angelus.”

 

He frowned. “Buffy—”

 

“You know the score, Spike. You know where we’ve looked before, and you know how he operates.” Buffy looked him straight in the eyes. “I know I can trust you to protect Willow and Dawn.”

 

That was all she needed to say, and Spike wondered if she knew that, if Buffy realized how precious her trust was to him. “I’ll take care of it, luv.”

 

“I know you will.” Buffy took two quick steps towards him and pulled his head down for a brief kiss. “Be careful, sweetheart?”

 

Spike swallowed hard, unused to the endearment. “Yeah, sure.” He cleared his throat. “You, too?”

 

“Of course.” She patted his cheek, and in another moment, the three Slayers were gone, leaving him alone with Willow, who was watching him with an amused expression on her face.

 

“You got something to say to me?” he challenged.

 

“It’s nice to see Buffy happy,” Willow replied mildly. “I should go do that locator spell.”

 

Spike blinked, then felt a slow smile spread across his face. He thought he might finally be in the right place.

 

~~~~~

 

Giles’ new curriculum for Watchers required them to learn and be able to perform several spells, and one of those was a simple locator spell, which could generally be done with minimum power and plenty of concentration.

 

Dawn knew the routine by heart, because this was what she’d wanted—to be a Watcher, if she couldn’t be a Slayer. Buffy was kidding herself if she thought Dawn was going to leave this world behind.

 

She could open up a portal, but she could also perform a truth spell, a locator spell, and a spell to start fire. Not that Dawn was about to let onto that.

 

“This is going to be difficult,” Geoffrey said quietly. “If your suspicion is correct, then the Slayers are technically dead.”

 

Dawn frowned. “But something of them should remain, right? I know the demon inhabits the body, but it’s still that person’s body.”

 

“Something might remain, yes, which is why I’m doing a locator spell,” Geoffrey replied. “Now, I’ll need quiet.”

 

Dawn took the rebuke silently, knowing that this was technically her fault, and that there was no point in protesting.

 

The locator spell took place in silence, with only a brief, muttered incantation by Geoffrey. Dawn watched the spark form over the map, then fly towards the ruins of the Forum. “Do you think that’s where they are?” Dawn asked when it appeared as though the spell was over.

 

Geoffrey shrugged. “There’s only one way to find out.”

 

They both began gathering their things, including weapons. “Geoff, I’m sorry.”

 

He paused. “I know.”

 

Dawn felt the weight of her guilt crash down. If his Slayers had been killed by Angelus, it would be her fault, her responsibility.

 

“If you’re correct, I’ll likely be reassigned,” Geoffrey said quietly. “You should know that.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because long distance relationships rarely work out.” He met her eyes, and she could see the truth there—he wasn’t sure that they would both survive, and he wanted to tell her how he felt before meeting Angelus.

 

Her eyes widened. “I thought—you and Buffy—”

 

“I have a great deal of admiration for your sister,” he confessed. “But she _is_ rather intimidating. If I’m going to date someone, I’d prefer she not be a Slayer.” Shouldering his bag, Geoffrey grew serious again. “We should go.”

 

Dawn followed him out the door, thinking that there might be hope for her after all. Assuming, of course, that they both survived.


	7. Your Savage Heart

**“Of all the stars I admired, drenched/in various rivers and mists,/I chose only the one I love./Since then I sleep with the night./Of all the waves, one wave and another wave,/green sea, green chill, branchings of green,/I chose only the one wave,/the indivisible wave of your body./All the waterdrops, all the roots,/all the threads of light gathered to me here;/they came to me sooner or later./I wanted your hair, all for myself./From all the graces my homeland offered/I chose only your savage heart.” ~Pablo Neruda, “Sonnet XLVI”**

 

Buffy, Vi, and Faith fell into an easy rhythm. Buffy knew of a place in the underground where demons often went. Although she and Spike had checked there the night before for any information on Angelus and had come up dry, there was always a chance that with three Slayers, they would get more.

 

The underground club was built into a mountain of discarded pottery, Mount Testaccio. Buffy had discovered it through the Immortal, and she’d had fun, even though surrounded by demons and vampires.

 

Heads turned as they entered the dimly lit club, moving with power and grace, and Buffy knew that anyone in the club with an ounce of sense would get out of their way.

 

Sure enough, a path cleared as though by magic, and Buffy zeroed in on the nearest vampire. “There.”

 

Vi and Faith caught her signal and saw the vampire she had her eye on. They flanked him to prevent an escape while Buffy marched right up to him. “Oh, look, it’s a Slayer,” he sneered. “Am I supposed to be scared?”

 

His thick accent was somehow a perfect complement to his disco-age clothing, dark, oily hair and thin mustache. Buffy grabbed a handful of his silver shirt and pushed him backwards. The crowd made way for them, and she caught the furtive glances that they were being given.

 

Apparently, their activities were of interest to the rest of the crowd.

 

Buffy didn’t stop pushing until they got to the back wall of the club. “Try _three_ Slayers, moron. And you’re going to join the dust on the floor if you don’t tell us what we want to know.”

 

“We need not fear Slayers anymore,” he snarled. “There is a new master vampire in town, and he’s already turned two.”

 

Buffy’s felt her stomach twist at that news, but she didn’t allow the emotion to show on her face. “Those little girls?” she smirked. “You’re not dealing with babies now. You’re dealing with women.” She held out a hand and felt the hilt of the knife slap her palm.

 

She could always count on Faith to carry a knife.

 

“That won’t kill me.” The vampire’s voice wasn’t quite so certain, however.

 

“I don’t want to kill you, not right away,” Buffy said sweetly. “I want information. By the time I’m through, you’ll be begging to tell me everything you know.”

 

“Fine, fine!” he said quickly as Faith and Vi moved closer. “The vampire you are looking for is in the ruins of the Forum. He is creating a harem of turned Slayers. That is what he said. He claims he’s killed one before.”

 

Buffy smirked. “He lied. I’m always the one who sends him to hell.”

 

She didn’t wait for the dust to settle before she turned to the others. “We need to get to the Forum.”

 

~~~~~

 

Spike felt Willow’s arms tighten around his waist as he took a sharp corner, and his sharp ears caught her squeak of surprise. “Hang on,” he called grimly.

 

He felt Willow’s face press into his shoulder, and he spared a moment to wonder at the fact that she’d agreed with his decision to steal—well, borrow—a scooter. The two cab services she’d tried to call had refused to go near the old ruins, and there was no other way to get there fast.

 

Spike had reminded her that Dawn was already at the ruins, and if they didn’t move quickly, they might be too late. He still hadn’t expected her to agree to his suggestion that they steal transportation, but he figured having a witch along made getting caught unlikely, to say the least.

 

He hit the gas as the streets cleared when they neared the ruins. They were close, but thoughts of Dawn filled his head, and he _knew_ Angelus. If the vampire had caught her…

 

Well, chances were the girl was still alive, but Angelus had a way with mental torture, and he could leave deep scars in a relatively short period of time.

 

Spike saw the ruins rising up, and he would have gunned the motor again, but Willow tapped him on the shoulder. “It’s a borrowed bike!” she shouted.

 

Growling a little, he slowed, deciding that it would probably be better not to give away their approach. “Where in the Forum is she?” he asked as he pulled the bike to a stop. “Do you know?”

 

Willow shook her head. “No. The map wasn’t that specific.”

 

“Bloody hell.”

 

“Can’t you track her by—I don’t know—scent?”

 

“Do I look like a sodding bloodhound?”

 

“I just thought—”

 

“Hang on.” Spike saw the flash of chrome in a streetlight, and he approached it cautiously. “Do you recognize it?”

 

Willow shook her head. “I’ve never been to Rome before, remember?”

 

Spike snorted and turned back to the motorbike. “Doesn’t look like something a Watcher would use.”

 

“We aren’t using the regular sort of Watchers anymore,” Willow reminded him. “Most of them got blown up.”

 

“Right.” He took a deep breath. Although he’d bristled at the idea that he could follow a scent like a hound, it was possible if there was a strong enough trace. “Dawn was here.”

 

He took off across the broken ground, calling behind him, “Watch your step.”

 

“How am I supposed to do that?” Willow whispered. “I can’t see much.”

 

“Can’t you make some light? You’re a powerful witch.”

 

“And give our location away this early in the game?” She raised a bright red eyebrow. “You really are out of practice, aren’t you?”

 

“Stuff it.” Spike didn’t question his instinct, just reached out and seized Willow’s hand, leading her through the ruins.

 

There were paths for the tourists, and fences to mark them, but Spike could smell blood, and the trail led off the path. He helped Willow over the fence and hustled her along.

 

Blood on the ground—it would bring vampires like sharks to chum when tossed in the water. And the scent was growing stronger—Spike nearly stumbled over a crumpled body as they moved towards a stone structure, its graceful arches looking more like gaping maws in the dim light.

 

“Hang on.” He knelt next to the body, fumbling for a pulse, and feeling Willow’s slim fingers brush his aside.

 

Willow was quiet for a moment, then heaved a sigh. “He’s dead.”

 

Spike brought the demon forth, knowing that he’d need every advantage in the upcoming fight. “I can smell Dawn on him.”

 

Willow swallowed audibly. “This is probably the Watcher.”

 

“And Angelus likely turned him. It’s not just human blood I smell.” Spike swore. “We have some time. We can come back and take care of it later.”

 

Willow nodded shortly, meeting his eyes, apparently unfazed by the yellow eyes and fangs. “I think it might be better if we kill Angelus. We don’t have time to try the curse.”

 

Spike nodded. “Yeah. Let’s move.”

 

~~~~~

 

Dawn swallowed a sob as Angelus leaned in close, smelling her neck with an exaggerated sniff. She had watched him kill Geoffrey as the two vamped Slayers held her tightly. They were giggling madly now as they watched Angelus lick the skin over her jugular.

 

“Buffy’s going to kill you,” she managed to say, even though she was nearly choking on her fear.

 

He laughed, the sound like a knife in her side. “You’re not serious, are you? I’ve drunk from two Slayers now. I’m stronger than she’ll ever be.” Angelus gave her a toothy grin. “The Watcher was a little dry, but you’re a juicy treat, aren’t you?”

 

Dawn’s mouth was too dry to spit in his face, although that’s what she would have liked to do. “You can do whatever you want to me, but Spike and Buffy will hunt you down, and they will make you wish you’d never been born.”

 

The threat might have been more effective if Angelus hadn’t let out a delighted laugh, caressing the sensitive skin of the underside of her arm. Dawn found it impossible to move away; he had somehow managed to attach a set of manacles high on the wall above her head, and Dawn counted herself lucky that she could keep her feet on the floor.

 

Her arms were already aching. She knew the pain would have been much worse if she had actually been hanging there.

 

“Do you know how long I can keep this up?” Angelus looked over his shoulder at the two fanged Slayers who were avidly watching his every move. “Who wants to play?”

 

“I do!” they both said in unison, and Dawn fought back tears, remembering what they had been, who they had been, before Angelus had turned them.

 

This was _her_ fault.

 

“We can draw this out forever,” Angelus murmured in her ear, and Dawn tried to jerk away. He took a handful of her hair, jerking her head back, causing her to cry out in pain. “Your sister won’t even recognize you when I’m done.”

 

“That was always your problem, Angelus. You liked to talk too much.”

 

Dawn’s heart leapt in her chest as she heard Spike’s voice. “Spike!” Angelus snarled, not releasing her. “Get him!”

 

Out of the corner of her eye, Dawn could just see the two vamped Slayers and three more of Angelus’ minions falling on Spike and Willow, appearing like smoke from the shadows of the ruined walls. She let out a scream when Angelus’ teeth pierced her neck, and she heard Spike shout—in fear or anger, Dawn couldn’t tell.

 

Her last thought was of Buffy.

 

~~~~~

 

Geoffrey’s lifeless body had been a horrible shock when Buffy had stumbled upon it. They had found his motorbike next to another, unfamiliar one.  She didn’t allow herself to consider the possibilities as she and the other Slayers ran towards the sound of fighting.

 

She caught glimpses of the chaos through half-ruined arches as they ran towards what had probably been a temple of some kind. She suddenly heard Willow’s voice echo in her head. “Close your eyes!”

 

Buffy instinctively did as she was told, closing her eyes against the bright flash that was still visible moments later. When she opened her eyes again, the ruins were still blanketed by light, and Spike was standing between Angelus and a chained-up Dawn. They were both in game face, growling, and Willow was trying to keep four other vampires busy.

 

It was immediately apparent that all of the vampires, except for Spike, had been momentarily blinded by the light, but Angelus was recovering quickly, and Buffy sensed the approach of more vampires.

 

Buffy’s first instinct was to take care of Dawn and leave Faith and Vi to deal with the turned Slayers and other vampires, but there were just too many of them. She gestured to Vi. “Watch our backs!”

 

Vi turned to take a sentry’s position at the entrance to the ruined building, graceful in spite of the broken stone under her feet. She met the first vampire who came out of the darkness with a quick stake to the heart, and dust drifted around her feet.

 

With the knowledge that Vi would take care of the vampires still emerging from the rest of the ruins, Buffy turned her attention to the battle in front of her. She knew that Willow might have been able to use her sunlight spell but for Spike’s presence, and so the witch was limited to hand-to-hand fighting—never her forte.

 

Faith was grappling with the two vamped Slayers, and it appeared as though she was losing. Buffy took two quick strides and grabbed one of the girls by the back of her jacket, throwing her into the wall to give Faith some breathing room.

 

“Buffy!”

 

Willow’s warning came just in time, and Buffy whirled to meet the attack from behind. Her aim was true, even after months of being out of practice. Buffy felt the unmistakable swirl of vampire dust behind her as she turned to meet the next vampire, her sixth sense honed after years of fighting. She dropped to the ground and swept the legs out from under the vampire in front of her, then rose gracefully to face the next.

 

She caught sight of Spike. He and Angelus had each other by the upper arms, both of them vamped out and snarling, yellow eyes glowing. Neither seemed able to get the upper hand, and Buffy could see that Spike’s face was bleeding in multiple locations.

 

While she was distracted, Buffy felt an arm snake around her neck, abruptly cutting off her air supply, and she let out a garbled cry for help.

 

In that moment, Buffy could see everything, and she knew that they weren’t going to win this one. They would die or be turned, and Giles would have to send another, bigger group of Slayers and Watchers to clean up the mess.

 

She wished she had the chance to tell Spike that she really did love him, one last time.


	8. The Stone of Oblivion

**“I have no never-again, I have no always. In the sand/victory abandoned its footprints./I am a poor man willing to love his fellow men./I don’t know who you are. I love you. I don’t give away thorns,/and I don’t sell them./Maybe someone will know that I didn’t weave crowns/to draw blood; that I fought against mockery;/that I did fill the high tide of my soul with the truth./I repaid vileness with doves./I have no never, because I was different—/was, am, will be. And in the name/of my ever-changing love I proclaim a purity./Death is only the stone of oblivion./I love you, on your lips I kiss happiness itself./Let’s gather firewood. We’ll light a fire on the mountain.” ~Pablo Neruda, “Sonnet LXXVIII”**

 

Willow was waiting for her opportunity. She knew that if Angelus was dusted, it would seriously distress the vampires he’d turned, but Spike wasn’t having a whole lot of luck. Not that Willow could blame him. Angelus was bigger and stronger, well-rested, and half-drunk on Slayer blood.

 

She managed to stake the vampire she had been fighting with, and looked over at Spike. He was still too close to Angelus, and the angle was all wrong for her intervention. “Spike!” she called telepathically. “Let him go!”

 

It occurred to her that _this_ Spike had no reason to trust her, and that he’d been rather wary of her the entire time she’d been around him, but he didn’t have much of a choice. Spike was taking a beating, and even if he was holding his own for now, he couldn’t last much longer.

 

For a moment, she didn’t think he would obey, and then Spike tore himself away, still keeping his body between Dawn and Angelus. Willow used the opportunity to levitate a stake and send it spinning end-over-end, hitting Angelus’ heart.

 

He froze, as though stunned, just before disintegrating. There was a wail of anguish from the two Slayers he’d turned, and Spike used the opportunity to stake the one who had Buffy in a chokehold.

 

With Angelus’ death, the tide turned. While the others worked on dusting the remaining vampires, Willow focused her attention on freeing an unconscious Dawn, lowering the girl’s limp form to the rough ground.

 

“How is she?” Spike asked, dropping to his knees next to them.

 

Willow took a deep breath. “She needs to get to a hospital. It looks like she’s lost a lot of blood.”

 

Spike scooped her up in his arms. “Buffy! Where’s the closest hospital? Do you know?”

 

Buffy shook her head, her face pale. “No, but I have the number for a taxi service in my cell. I’ll call.” She glanced at Faith and Vi. “You two okay?”

 

“Five by five.” Faith’s voice sounded choked, and Willow knew that the other woman wouldn’t be happy that Angelus was dust, no matter how necessary it had been. “Go, B.”

 

Buffy scrambled after Spike, who was already heading out of the ruins to a place where a taxi would have better access.

 

“What are we going to do with the Watcher?” Faith asked. She sounded weary and maybe a little bitter to Willow, and not at all as though they’d just won a major battle.

 

“I don’t know. I’ll give Giles a call and see what he wants us to do.”

 

Willow swallowed her own sense of failure. This didn’t feel like a win to her either.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy looked at the gray morning sky through the window. “If you catch a cab now, you’ll make it back to the apartment before sunrise.”

 

“I’d rather stay.” Spike hadn’t moved from Dawn’s side since she’d been admitted. Buffy had spun a tale of thugs setting upon them on their way out of a club and hoped she’d be believed. The doctors hadn’t asked many questions, though. Maybe as in Sunnydale, they saw their fair share of weird stuff, enough to let it go.

 

Buffy walked over to his chair by Dawn’s bed; her sister still hadn’t woken up. She put her hands on his shoulders, massaging tense muscles. “The doctor said she could go home as soon as wakes up, and they check her out. You don’t want to be stuck here until sundown.” When he didn’t reply, she added, “It’s okay, Spike. You saved her life.”

 

He shook his head. “I don’t know if I can be the kind of man you need, Buffy.”

 

“All I need is for you to stay with me.” She moved around in front of him, wanting to look him in the eye. “The rest we can figure out as we go along.”

 

His eyes searched her face. “You’re really okay?”

 

“Okay with what?”

 

“Angelus, him getting staked.”

 

Buffy couldn’t hold back the groan of sheer frustration. “Spike—”

 

“I know, I know. You’re over him.”

 

“Very.”

 

“Because he died, and you moved on.”

 

“Exactly.”

 

“And I died, and you didn’t move on?”

 

“How many times do I need to say it?” He looked so vulnerable, Buffy couldn’t be angry. Instead, she felt a sort of tender exasperation. “I love you.”

 

Tender fingers touched her neck where the vampire had held her. She expected it to bruise, and the coolness of his flesh soothed. “I’ll never get tired of hearing it.”

 

She smiled. “I love you. Now, get out of here so the sun doesn’t fry you. We’ve got an eastern exposure in this rom.”

 

“So we do,” he replied mildly, his hand cupping the back of her neck to draw her closer.

 

While one part of Buffy’s brain was enjoying the kiss—a lot—the other was rapidly calculating exactly how much time Spike had to get home, and there wasn’t much. “Go,” she whispered. “Please? I want to be sure you’re safe.”

 

Something changed in his eyes, and he nodded. “All right. You’ll call if anything changes?”

 

“Of course.”

 

He stood, giving her a quick kiss before striding out of the room, and Buffy went back to her vigil, watching her sleeping sister’s face, and wishing with all her heart that she could somehow make her waking easier.

 

~~~~~

 

Spike arrived at the flat, feeling at peace for the first time in years. The last time he’d felt this way, he had been standing in the entranceway of Buffy’s house, telling her that she treated him like a man. At that moment, he’d had a clarity of purpose that he hadn’t been able to recreate since.

 

He was with Buffy; she loved him. It was more than he’d ever thought to ask for.

 

Spike didn’t expect what he found when he entered the apartment, however. “What is this?”

 

The dead Watcher lay on the floor in the living room, where the furniture had been pushed back against the walls to make room. Faith was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over her chest, looking seriously pissed off. Vi was perched on one of the chairs, looking more than a bit nervous, and Willow—

 

The witch was sitting on the couch next to a girl Spike didn’t know. He did, however, recognize the object in her hand.

 

“Spike, this is Lucia. She’s the one who helped Dawn do the original spell.”

 

Spike didn’t know whether to thank her, especially since one of the consequences from the spell was lying on the living room floor. “Yeah? What are you doing with an Orb of Thessula?” He glanced at the body. “You’re not seriously thinking about—”

 

“I called Giles,” Willow said, her voice shaking slightly. “We don’t have enough Watchers, Spike. We’re shorthanded enough as it is, and Geoffrey’s loss leaves a bigger hole than you might think. He thought it was worth it to try this.”

 

Spike didn’t pretend to understand the realities of the current situation. Although he was aware that there were a hell of a lot of Slayers now, and that the majority of the Council had been blown up, he couldn’t quite understand why the death of one Watcher made such a difference that they would need to curse him.

 

“You know what this is going to mean?” he demanded. “Someone is going to have to look after him. You don’t just leave a new vampire to fend for itself, even if it has a soul. And what happens the first time he gets a happy? You _saw_ what that sort of bollocks did to Angel!”

 

“We’ll fix the curse,” Willow replied. “But for right now, we need him, and he’ll be even more effective this way.”

 

Spike shook his head at the idiocy of it all. “Why? Give me one good reason before I rip his head off and take the option away.”

 

“We lost another Watcher last night besides Geoffrey,” Willow replied. “And we’ve located six new Slayers. You do the math.”

 

“Bloody hell.” Spike stared at the body, and he knew that he was in no position to forbid the curse from being done. He hadn’t been around long enough to have an informed opinion, and no one was going to listen to him anyway.

 

“I have to do this,” Willow said. “If he needs help—”

 

Spike cursed. The last thing he wanted was to be in charge in one of Angelus’ leftovers, but he didn’t think he had another choice. “Fine. We’re going to need more blood, because he’s going to be hungry as hell when he wakes up.”

 

Willow nodded. “We’ll see to it.” She offered him an apologetic smile. “You might not want to be here for this.”

 

Spike snorted. “I don’t want to be. Wake me up when he does, or when Buffy gets back.”

 

His good mood shattered, Spike slammed Buffy’s bedroom door behind him. If having a vampire as a Watcher wasn’t one of the stupidest things he’d ever heard of, he didn’t know what it might be.

 

~~~~~

 

Dawn woke slowly, the sunlight flooding the room providing immediate reassurance that she hadn’t been turned, and that she was still herself.

 

“Hey.”

 

She turned her head to see Buffy sitting next to her bedside, a weary smile on her face. “Buffy.” Dawn felt tears fill her eyes. “I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t know. I just wanted you to be happy.”

 

“Sshhh.” Buffy moved quickly to sit on the bed, pulling her into a tight embrace. “It’s okay. It’s going to be fine.”

 

“He drained Geoffrey.” With Buffy’s arms around her, Dawn couldn’t hold back her sobs. “I watched him do it, and I couldn’t stop him. I tried. I was going to kill him. We were—”

 

Buffy hushed her, rocking her back and forth. “It’s going to be okay, Dawnie. We’re going to get through this.”

 

She cried until her eyes were swollen and she couldn’t breathe, and Buffy just kept holding her and stroking her hair. “I’m really, really sorry,” Dawn said, pulling back and swiping at her nose and eyes with her hands.

 

“Here.” Buffy handed her a fistful of tissues.

 

“Is Spike okay?” Dawn asked. “And everybody else?”

 

“We all came through in one piece,” Buffy assured her.

 

Dawn nodded. “You had to stake the Slayers?”

 

“Yeah. There wasn’t any other choice.” Buffy cupped her cheek. “I need to get the doctor. How do you feel about going home?”

 

“The sooner the better.” Dawn suddenly remembered something she’d seen that hadn’t made sense to her at the time, blinded as she’d been by her terror. “Buffy—wait. I think Angelus turned Geoffrey.”

 

Her sister’s expression expressed a deep, wordless sympathy. “We’re taking care of it. Don’t worry.”

 

But it wasn’t worry that seized her heart; it was grief.

 

~~~~~

 

Buffy fumbled with her cell phone as it rang. “Yeah, Giles? What’s up?”

 

“I asked Willow to do something for me. Where are you?”

 

“We’re just getting back to the apartment building,” she replied, fishing in her purse for the keys. “Why?”

 

“Willow is re-ensouling Geoffrey.”

 

“ _What_?” Buffy couldn’t believe she’d heard that right. “Why?”

 

“Because I asked her to.”

 

“Giles—”

 

“Hear me out.” His voice was authoritative enough to have her falling silent. “Willow called me to ask what should be done with the body, and I suggested performing the curse, as long as we could locate the appropriate ingredients.”

 

“You’re talking about an Orb.”

 

“When Willow called to inform me that Dawn’s friend was fortuitously waiting outside your building with the missing ingredient, I told her to go ahead with the spell.”

 

“Why, Giles? You still haven’t answered my question.”

 

“We lost two Watchers last night, Buffy. At least in Geoffrey’s case, we can bring him back in some form.”

 

She looked at Dawn, who was staring at her with concern on her face. “Hang on.” Putting a hand over the mouthpiece, she said, “Dawn? We’re running low on blood. Do you feel up to grabbing some?”

 

“What’s going on, Buffy?”

 

“I’ll explain later,” she promised. “Are you up to it?”

 

Dawn sighed. “Yeah. I’ll get some.”

 

As soon as she was certain that her sister was out of earshot, she began speaking again. “We can train new Watchers, Giles. We don’t need to curse a vamped one.”

 

“Do you know how many Slayers we’ve found recently?” Giles demanded. “No, you wouldn’t, because you haven’t been involved. That was your choice, and I respected that, but desperate times call for desperate measures.”

 

Buffy bit back the sharp reply she wanted to make. She wanted to know why he had been so willing to throw Spike to the wolves when he was now quite happy to put a vampire in charge of Slayers. And a newly-vamped Watcher, at that.

 

“Before you ask, it’s because of Spike that I think this might work.”

 

It was pretty much the only thing he could have said to get her to agree with such an insane plan. “Fine, Giles. We’ll take care of him.”

 

“You’re willing to help, then?”

 

“Do I have a choice?” Buffy snapped the phone closed. She unlocked the front entrance and took the stairs to her apartment two at a time. When she opened her door, she saw Geoffrey sitting up, in game face, his head in his hands, rocking back and forth.

 

Willow was sprawled on the couch, clearly exhausted, and Vi and Faith were standing with their weapons at the ready.

 

Buffy took it all in, then turned to Faith. “Where’s Spike?”

 

“In your bedroom.” Faith’s expression was grim. “He didn’t like the plan.”

 

“He can join the fucking club.” She tried to gentle her voice when she spoke to Geoffrey, knowing that this wasn’t his fault. “Geoff? You okay?”

 

He shook his head, not looking up. “I’m just so hungry,” he moaned.

 

“Did you get him some blood?” Buffy asked.

 

Vi nodded. “We fed him everything in the fridge. He wasn’t supposed to wake up before sunset.”

 

“Surprise,” came Spike’s dry voice. “The ones that wake up before the sun goes down are the ones the Slayer never has to stake.” He met Buffy’s eyes. “How’s the Nibblet?”

 

“She’s fine. I sent her to get more blood when Giles called. I thought we might need it.”

 

“Clearly.” Spike knelt in front of Geoffrey. “Hey. Look at me, mate.” His voice was as gentle as Buffy had ever heard it, and she was a little surprised to see that kind of compassion for a stranger from Spike. “Look at me. You’re making the ladies in the room nervous, acting like that.”

 

“I don’t know how to change.” Geoffrey kept his head down, and his voice was still muffled by his hands. “This is wrong. _I’m_ wrong.”

 

“Bollocks.” The one word hit Geoffrey like a slap, and the Watcher’s head snapped up. “Think about how much you can do with all that strength and speed. You’re more of an asset than ever, yeah? But that’s only if you quit your bloody whinging and _listen_.”

 

Buffy heard the audible gulp. “How?”

 

“Focus. Just focus. You’ll find the muscles there, even if you didn’t have them before.”

 

After a few seconds, the green eyes and fangs were gone, replaced by the same thin, rawboned face and green eyes that Buffy remembered. He looked like Geoffrey again.

 

And he looked like he was about to cry.

 

“That’s the way.” Spike reached out and hauled him to his feet, ignoring the fact that the other vampire had a good six inches on him.

 

“I’m so hungry,” Geoffrey said, in the tone of a small child who isn’t quite sure of himself. Even from a few feet away, Buffy could see the pity on Spike’s face.

 

“’Course you are. That will pass. You’ve just got to give it some time, that’s all.” The front door swung open, and Dawn came through, a brown paper bag in her hand—which she promptly dropped. There probably would have been blood everywhere if it hadn’t been for Faith’s quick intervention.

 

Geoffrey’s face shifted as soon as he saw Dawn, and her sister immediately burst into tears.

 

Spike’s cursing broke the tableau. “That’s about enough of that,” he snarled, keeping a tight grip on Geoffrey as he grabbed the bag from Faith. “Good catch, ducks. Now, we’re going to eat.”

 

Silence fell over the room as they left, and Buffy looked at Willow, who had remained silent throughout. “Will? Why?”

 

“Giles was right, Buffy. We’re in bad shape.”

 

“We can’t go around cursing every turned Watcher!” Buffy objected, keeping her voice low.

 

Willow shook her head. “It’s not every Watcher. It’s one of them, and it was all due to the circumstances.” She looked at Lucia meaningfully. The girl had been watching the whole affair with interest, although not with the sort of shock or fear Buffy had come to expect from the uninitiated—well, other than Oz.

 

Buffy took a deep breath and looked up, saying a quick prayer for patience. “Okay, fine. Dawn, why don’t you take Lucia into your room. You two can catch each other up.” She gave her sister a hard look. “And I’m going to want a very detailed explanation as to _why_ one of your friends even knew we needed an Orb of Thessula, and where to get one.”

 

She looked at Faith and Vi. “Hotel room is on the Council. I don’t care what Giles says about saving money, he owes us, and you guys deserve a break. I’ll square it with him.”

 

“You sure you’re okay with him?” Faith did not sound happy, and Buffy could understand why. Unlike her, Buffy didn’t think that Faith had yet made peace with Angel’s death, and now to have to deal with it all over again—and to essentially have Angel replaced by a new vampire—Buffy wouldn’t have been happy either.

 

“Spike is here, too.”

 

Faith didn’t appear to be reassured, but Vi grabbed her arm. “We’ll call you later, Buffy.”

 

“You guys know where you’re going?”

 

Vi held up her cell phone. “No, but I know how to call a taxi.”

 

As soon as they were alone, Buffy turned to Willow. “Why didn’t you guys tell me how bad it was?” she demanded in a low voice.

 

“We knew you needed time off,” Willow replied gently. “And Giles wasn’t sure if—”

 

Buffy let out a sigh. “Giles wasn’t sure if I wanted to live badly enough not to get myself killed at the first opportunity.”

 

“Something like that.” Willow grimaced. “We needed you, Buffy, but if something had happened to you, it would have been a lot worse. If that makes any sense.”

 

“It makes a lot of sense.” Buffy rubbed her forehead. “You look pretty beat, Will. Why don’t you take my bed?”

 

Willow winced. “Uh, if it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll sleep on the couch, or even on the floor.”

 

Buffy frowned. “Why—oh. Yeah. I haven’t had a chance to change the sheets yet.”

 

“That’s why.” She smiled. “I’ll see what Dawnie wants to do. She looks wiped out.”

 

Buffy watched her go, and realized that she was seeing the end of her retirement. She pushed her hair out of her face. “I knew it wouldn’t last,” she muttered.


	9. No Wound Can Divide Us

**“Love dragged its tail of pain,/its train of static thorns behind it,/and we closed our eyes so that nothing,/so that no wound could divide us./This crying, it’s not your eyes’ fault;/your hands didn’t plunge that sword;/your feet didn’t seek this path;/this somber honey found its own way to your heart./When love like a huge wave/carried us, crashed us against the boulder,/it milled us to a single flour;/this sorrow fell into another, sweeter, face:/so in an open season of the light/this wounded springtime was blessed.” ~Pablo Neruda, “Sonnet LXI”**

 

Geoffrey stared at the blood in front of him with an expression of distaste. Spike knew just what was bothering him; he didn’t much like pigs’ blood either. “You’ll get used to it.”

 

“How?” The fangs distorted his voice. “I didn’t ask for this.”

 

“You think I did?”

 

“I hadn’t thought about it.”

 

“Drink up fast, mate. Otherwise, it’ll congeal.”

 

For a moment, Spike thought that the other vampire was going to gag, which was likely the only amusement he was going to get out of the situation. In a perfect world, Spike would have been taking him hunting for his first victim, to learn the sport and pleasure of drinking directly from the jugular, of inducing the maximum amount of fear to sweeten the blood.

 

Spike gave himself a mental shake. Scratch that. In a perfect world, Spike wouldn’t have turned him to begin with. Chances were, Angelus had thought he could avoid Buffy long enough to use a now-vamped Geoffrey to get close, maybe even bringing Dawn’s drained body to them.

 

He couldn’t bear the thought.

 

Geoffrey slammed back the blood, swallowing convulsively. As soon as he’d finished it off, Spike handed him the next mug. “Keep going.”

 

“I’m not hungry.”

 

“Best way to prevent yourself from getting out of control now is to stay on the other side of being satiated. Trust me.”

 

“Did you have to do this?”

 

“Didn’t have to worry about it. I had something besides a soul holding me back.”

 

Geoffrey drank the next mug just as quickly. “And what was it?”

 

“A chip,” Spike said briefly. “It gives me a hell of a headache if I so much as threaten a human.”

 

Spike watched as Geoffrey’s face shift back to his human mask—and it was just a mask now. He supposed it was just as well he was the one guiding the fledgling; Angel would have mucked it up in the worst way. Soul or no soul, being a vampire wasn’t something that just went away. It was what you were.

 

He thought that the Watcher might have an easier time of it, since he’d been cursed right away, but then again, Geoffrey was supposed to be a Watcher, someone who helped kill exactly what he’d just become.

 

And he was going to be put in charge of Slayers, who were trained to kill things like him.

 

This was going to get very interesting.

 

~~~~~

 

Dawn felt Lucia’s arm around her shoulders, and she leaned into her friend. “I’m sorry you got dragged into this.”

 

“I signed up for this when I decided to help you,” Lucia reminded her. “And when I brought the Orb. I had hoped that there would have been a little more time.”

 

“That was my fault,” Dawn confessed. “This whole thing—”

 

“Assigning blame will not help.” Lucia gave her a little shake. “I think your sister would have said this, yes?”

 

“Yeah, but—”

 

“And when Angelus came here, he came without his soul, correct?”

 

Dawn nodded. “Yeah, but I don’t see—”

 

“So, he would have been killing people in another dimension, yes? Perhaps even people that you cared about.”

 

Dawn hadn’t thought about it from that angle. “I guess so.”

 

“There you are,” Lucia said triumphantly. “What happened here was likely no better or worse than what happened _there_.”

 

She took a deep breath. “I guess. But Geoffrey—”

 

“I know.”

 

There wasn’t anything Lucia could say to make that pain go away. Dawn couldn’t get the sight of Angelus draining Geoffrey out of her mind, and she knew that nothing would ever be the same.

 

After a brief knock on the door, Willow stuck her head in. “Can I come in?”

 

“Yeah, sure.” Dawn wiped her sweaty palms on her grimy jeans. “How is he?”

 

“Spike is looking after him,” Willow responded. “I think he’ll be fine. Geoffrey’s the same person he always was, Dawnie.”

 

“Except that he drinks blood and can’t go out in the sunlight.” Dawn leaned into Lucia’s shoulder when her friend pulled her close again. “And every Slayer is going to be fighting the urge to stake him.”

 

“Your sister doesn’t seem to be fighting the same urge with Spike,” Willow pointed out with a smile.

 

“No, I guess not.”

 

Willow turned her attention to Lucia. “Okay, how did you know we needed an Orb?”

 

“I told her,” Dawn said, quick to step in to shelter her friend. “I asked her to find it.”

 

The witch crossed her arms over her chest. “Maybe I should ask _why_ she knew.”

 

Dawn gulped. “Lucia helped me research the spell. She knows about everything.”

 

“Everything?”

 

Dawn stiffened. “Almost. Some stuff wasn’t mine to tell.” She shot Lucia an apologetic look.

 

“There were things I asked not to know,” Lucia corrected gently. “And you should know, in the spirit of full disclosure, my mother works at Wolfram and Hart.”

 

Willow gave Dawn a sharp look. “Dawn!”

 

“Not everyone who works for Wolfram and Hart is evil!” she protested. “Look at Angel and Spike.”

 

“Fair enough.”

 

“I have said nothing to my mother,” Lucia said, “and I have cut ties as much as possible. What they represent is not who I am.” She rose. “I should go.”

 

“I’ll call you later,” Dawn promised a little desperately. She didn’t want to lose the one friend she had in Rome.

 

Lucia smiled. “Of course, Dawn. I will look forward to it.”

 

“Buffy isn’t going to be happy about this,” Willow observed as soon as the other girl had gone.

 

Dawn glared at her. “She’s my friend. Buffy had her friends, and I have mine. Okay, I have _a_ friend, but I don’t think it’s fair that just because I have a screwed up background, I can’t have someone I tell things to.”

 

“Fair, no, but sometimes that’s the way it goes, Dawn.” Willow sighed. “But what’s done is done. We’ll just have to hope that Lucia’s loyalties aren’t put to the test.” She turned to leave. “You might want to talk to Geoffrey. I think Spike and Buffy are going to catch a few hours of sleep. He can’t go home until the sun goes down.”

 

“And you want to sleep?” Dawn smiled. “I’ll get out of here. I don’t think I could sleep anyway.”

 

When she rose, Willow pulled her into a tight hug. “I get it, Dawn. You just—have to be careful, you know? We worry about you.”

 

“I know.” She really did, it was just that Dawn didn’t always want to be the one worried over.

 

~~~~~

 

“How is he?” Buffy was numbed by the day’s events, unable to shake the feeling that Giles had betrayed her. He had insisted that she couldn’t trust Spike, even after he’d sought and gained his soul, and now he’d done this.

 

Spike lay back on the bed, his arm over his eyes. “Doing better than you might expect. I suppose that comes from getting cursed right away, and not having time to eat anybody.”

 

“He seemed the same,” she ventured.

 

Spike sighed. “I don’t know what you want to hear, Buffy.”

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“The soul.” He lowered his arm, fixing her with weary blue eyes. “Do you want to hear that it’s everything or nothing?”

 

“Can’t it be both?” When he stared at her, perplexed, Buffy stretched out next to him. “I’ve got a theory.”

 

“Let’s hear it.”

 

“You don’t have to sound so excited.”

 

Spike grunted, pulling her closer and burying his face in her hair. “I’m listening.”

 

“That’s better.” She squirmed to get comfortable, ending up with one arm thrown over Spike’s waist, and a leg trapped between his. “I didn’t know Angel before he was turned, but—”

 

“He was a wanker.”

 

“You didn’t know him either,” Buffy shot back, lifting her head to glare at him. “Hush.”

 

He mimed zipping his lips.

 

“ _Like I was saying_ , I didn’t know Angel before he was turned, but from what I’ve gathered, he wasn’t very nice. You, on the other hand, were a perfectly nice guy.” She felt him draw breath to protest and cut him off. “I like nice guys, by the way.”

 

When Spike remained silent, she continued. “So, I think it’s all about the material that the demon has to work with. If Angel didn’t have a soul, he’d never even be a half-decent person, but you—you just needed a reason.”

 

“I’ve always been love’s bitch,” he murmured in her ear.

 

“Yeah, exactly. I think Geoffrey’s going to be okay, but if he loses his soul, things could get really ugly.”

 

“We’ll just have to figure out how to close that loophole.” There was a pause, and Buffy could _feel_ him thinking. She marveled at how easy it had been to fall back into a partnership, almost like it had been when she’d returned from the dead.

 

“What, Spike?” she asked gently.

 

“Would you prefer it if I had my soul, luv?”

 

Buffy pushed herself up so that she could look him directly in the eyes, searching his face. She could see the lines that were only visible upon close inspection, the dark lashes, the curl in his hair he tried to hide. “No,” she finally said, as honestly as she knew how, willing him to believe her. “I love you with your soul or without.”

 

His smile was all the answer she needed.

 

~~~~~

 

“Hi.”

 

Geoffrey turned to see Dawn watching him warily. “Hello.”

 

“How—how are you?”

 

He considered the question. “You know, I feel surprisingly good for a dead man.” Geoffrey realized he’d said the wrong thing as soon as the words came out of his mouth. “Dawn, I didn’t mean it that way.”

 

“Yes, you did. It was my idea to go after Angelus.”

 

“And I could have refused,” he said gently. “It’s not your fault.”

 

“How can you say that?” Dawn demanded. “This is my fault.”

 

Geoffrey raised an eyebrow. “Fine. You’re absolutely right. It is most definitely your fault. Now, do you feel better?”

 

“No.” Dawn plopped down in one of the kitchen chairs. “I really am sorry.”

 

“I know you are,” he replied, sitting down across from her.

 

When she looked up from the wood grain she’d been studying, he could see the tears in her blue eyes, and it occurred to him—not for the first time—how beautiful she was. And now, of course, she was completely out of his reach.

 

Dawn managed the ghost of a smile. “So, you don’t hate me?”

 

Geoffrey smiled and wished he couldn’t hear the blood rushing through her veins. “Never.”

 

~~~~~

 

Spike sat down next to Buffy on the couch, looking across the coffee table at Willow. Now that the emergency had been dealt with, there was the small matter of what they were going to do. Geoffrey had gone back to his apartment, and Dawn had taken Willow’s spot in her bed.

 

“Giles wants me to stick around, at least until I can anchor Geoffrey’s soul,” Willow began. “And he wants Faith and Vi to stay for right now.”

 

Buffy took a deep breath. “Am I crazy, or is Giles setting us up to be another Bath?”

 

“Another what?” Spike broke in. “You talking about the one with water, or the one in England?”

 

“England.” Buffy smiled. “That’s where the Council has its primary training center.”

 

Willow nodded. “You do have some vampire activity here, and Italy makes a pretty decent jumping off point, at least as far as the Mediterranean and Middle East are concerned. We’re still having trouble getting into some of those countries.”

 

She hesitated, then added, “Two vampires can get in and out easier than humans can.”

 

“Bloody hell,” Spike muttered.

 

Buffy put her hand over his. “You don’t have to do this, Spike. No one’s going to fault you for not being—whatever it is you’d be.”

 

“I’d basically be his sire,” Spike responded. “And this is why I don’t like turning people. Too much bloody responsibility.”

 

“What about Ford?” Buffy asked, suddenly curious.

 

He shrugged. “I let one of the minions do that. Think I was going to take that git on for all eternity?”

 

Buffy tried to hide a wince. That definitely sounded like Spike—and not the souled version, either.

 

“Sorry,” he muttered, obviously sensing her discomfort.

 

“No, it’s okay.”

 

Willow cleared her throat. “Are you guys both on board with what Giles decides to do?”

 

Buffy glanced at Spike, and when he nodded, she took a deep breath. “I guess so. It’s time to get back in the game.”

 

~~~~~

 

Spike pulled the red t-shirt over his head and tossed it onto the chair beside the bed. Willow was bedded down on the couch, and although he and Buffy had caught a couple of hours earlier, it hadn’t been enough.

 

He wondered how long it had been since he’d had more than a couple of hours at a time. Months? Years?

 

“How does that work?”

 

Spike paused in the process of unbuckling his belt. “How does what work?”

 

“Well, I can see your shirt in the mirror now, but you’re still invisible.” Buffy lounged on the bed, already in her pajamas. “Unfortunately, the pants are not.”

 

Spike smirked and slid his jeans off. “Better?”

 

“Much.”

 

“And yet you’re wearing clothes. I can’t help but think that something isn’t right here,” he teased.

 

“Maybe I know how much you like taking them off,” was her rejoinder.

 

In spite of his weariness, Spike pounced on her, listening to her swiftly stifled squeal of laughter. “Spike! Willow’s on the couch!”

 

“You started it,” he pointed out.

 

“And I’ll finish it.” Her mouth closed over his, and her hands went south. Spike seized her wrists, firmly but gently.

 

He shook his head. “Let me?”

 

Buffy paused, then relaxed under him. “Okay.”

 

Spike felt her surrender to him completely, and he began to believe that whatever challenges this dimension might offer—from fledgling Watchers to angsting Keys—it would be worth every minute.

 

“Buffy?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Are you my girl?”

 

He asked because he had to know, because he wanted to hear the words. Spike asked because he knew that he was already hers.

 

Buffy gave him a bright smile while blinking back tears. “Oh, Spike. Always.”


End file.
